Home Sweet Mordhaus
by SummerSkies2007
Summary: Dethklok gets their missing fifth member in Toki Wartooth. All the pieces seem to come together when the Norwegian joins the band.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: I do not own Dethklok. Brandon Small does. I also do not own Maruchan Ramen, though I do eat more than my fair share of it. I make no money off this. Also I went with the idea that Dethklok didn't get Charles as their manager until they got signed with the label company. It makes sense, because in Doomstar Requiem they are confronted by their old manager. Don't worry, I will not leave Charles out!

Chapter One : Ramen and Rhythm Guitarists

Skwisgaar Skiggelf , fastest guitar player on earth, was rummaging around the dilapidated kitchen cupboards looking for something vaguely edible. So far, stacked in sloppy haphazard piles were various flavors of Maruchan Ramen, and saltine crackers. The Swede couldn't stand those cardboard-tasting noodles, and needed something of more substance. He could eat nearly anything right now. Reaching a long arm into the back of the top shelf, he unearthed jars of jalapeno pickles, a tin of mustard powder , and a jar of generic obscure-brand peanut butter. At least the peanut butter had some protein in it, the blond mused as he grabbed the last remaining spoon from the jumbled pile of the silverware drawer.

There wasn't a single slice of bread in the house, and the Swede wasn't about to smear the precious peanut butter on some stale, crumbling saltine crackers. He simply dug in, leaning against the wall opposite of the cupboards. He ate a few spoonful's, sighing as he looked at the water-damaged tile ceiling. He couldn't remember ever being _this_ poor. He had now gone exactly a week without a proper non-ramen meal. The closest thing he had to proper food was some gas station hot dogs, piled high with as much extras as the Swede could stand, but that was three days ago. Hardly a proper meal for the guitarist. He was slowly starving to death, literally. Not the whiney-I'm-going-to-starve-to-death –if-I-don't-get-my-snack starve, but proper starving artist starvation, depths of despair starve. The blond was starting to contemplate selling his sexual favors with the ladies in exchange for some proper food and beer money. It would be so easy, too. Just fuck a few desperate milfs and lonely housewives, in exchange for something warm filling up his shrunken stomach. The others could go a few more days without proper protein enriched foods because of their extra layers of fat, but the Swede had a fast metabolism and felt slightly queasy with hunger. Something had to change, and fast. He was beginning to doubt how much longer he could last without proper nutrients in his body.

Since he joined Dethklok and went to America, he had been in a constant state of near starvation. Now he was living in a filthy split-level house that seemed to be falling down around their ears. Mordhaus was nearly condemned before they even got it. The rent was cheap, considering the state of it, and the neighborhood it was in, and the men were too brutal and broke to get anything else. So, they made the house their own, dubbing it "Mordhaus" and graffiti the outside with various Satanic and metal scribbles. The other band members tried to keep down part time employment to keep the electricity on, and some kind of food in the fridge. Nathan worked as a bouncer at a night club, Pickles worked at a gas station, Murderface worked the graveyard shift as a garbage man. All three men barely brought home enough to pay bills, and any spending money was quickly blown on drugs, and booze. Skwisgaar was a Swedish citizen, and only had a temporary Visa, so he couldn't hold a job, which was frustrating for him, as he had no real money of his own. He had to renew his soon, or he would be forced back home for a while. Their manager, a hardcore drunk with a beer gut by the name of Chuck, wasn't much help in finding the budding band any properly paying gigs. Sure, Chuck would find them a few places to play that paid in "beer tickets", and sometimes a greasy plate of fries, but that did little to fill the cupboards and the fridge.

Snorting, the blond threw the spoon into the sink, clattering loudly against the huge piles of filthy dishes, all in various stages of mold growth. The sink itself was reeking of stale rot-gut beer that the crazy dreadlocked drummer drank, and of the decay of some cheesy substance that the bassist cooked up, greedily eating it all by himself. The bastard would sometimes get extra money from his job as a garbage man and would blow it on food that he would shove in to his fat face without ever offering the rest of his band mates some.

The rest of the band was currently at their part time jobs, leaving the Swede alone to do whatever. Normally, he might walk around the city a bit, looking for a good screw, but right now he just wasn't in the mood to try to pick up some piece of ass. He barely had enough energy to rattle about the Mordhaus, feeling lightheaded and shaky as he moved about. He waded through piles of empty rot-gut beer cans, kicking them out of his way. Debris formed little snow-drift like piles along the edges of the walls, spilling up and creeping around small end tables.

Skwisgaar rounded up a small pile of his own clothes, all in various shades of polar white. He was slightly shacking with the effort. The bunch of clothes in his lanky arms felt impossibly heavy and he couldn't help but sigh as he looked down at them.

The last few months of extreme poverty has left the once immaculate, blinding pristine white clothes a depressing shade of dingy gray. He threw the clothes down on the bathroom floor as he started filling the bathtub with the hottest water possible. Tiny floating dots of gold floated in his vison, and he felt dizzy when he leaned back up.

"this ams so fuckings dildos…" he muttered, fetching his tiny bottle of bleach and dollar store laundry detergent that announced cheerfully on the bottle it smelled "Alpine Fresh!". He dumped the entire bottle of bleach into the water, hoping that maybe his clothes wouldn't look so awfully filthy. A capful of alpine fresh went in as well, tingeing the water an attractive shade of sky blue.

He felt hot tears slightly sting at his eyes. This was so depressing. He was the fastest guitarist alive, and here he was, washing his clothing in the bathtub like some kind of dildos peasant. He should have a small army of scantily clad French Maids doing his every whim, washing his laundry, cleaning the house, blow jobs on demand… He would just have to wiggle a finger at them to get them to take off their lacy white aprons so that he could fuck their little French brains out. He would never have to cook again, or have to do laundry. His little French maid army would take care of his every need. It would be wonderful.

He turned his attention back to the task it hand as the hot water turned his ivory hands an angry shade of red as he scrubbed angrily at a spot on his second pair of white jeans.

"Stupids Moidarfaces…. Stupids Pickels…" he muttered "makes me dos womens works.. I amsnest no ladies.. racests bask-tards.. joos Swedishs so joo cans no git propers jobs, ja? Dildos.."

He finished his laundry, wringing it out carefully before hanging his few precious tank tops and pair of jeans up in the bathroom, using the curtain rack to drape them off of. He admired his handiwork as the clothes steamed, looking whiter and cleaner than they had in a long time.

The Swede felt exhausted, slumping off to the distressed and shabby couch. He threw himself down with a grunt, and grabbed the remote controller from the floor. He stretched his full length out, his ankles and feet dangling over the battered armrest on the far side. Flipping channels idly, he found something vaguely interesting-a cooking show featuring old ladies making some kind of pastry dish. The way the one with the steel-grey pin curls handled the rolling pin and the dough was making him bothered and hot. It didn't matter who the person was, if it had a hole, Skwisgaar could fuck it.

He preferred older women to the nubile bodies of the barely-legal teens and twenty-something's. Cougars just had a devil-may-care attitude, and knew what they wanted. They were experienced and yet not overly eager to please, unlike the desperateness that practically radiated off their younger counterparts. He found them softer, more pleasing, and therefore enjoyable. Most of all, he loved making them feel young again as he basked in their attention. He contemplated scratching his itch right in the middle of the living room, but remembered that Pickles was due to come home soon from his shift at the gas station.

Not that the Swede cared who saw his dick, he just didn't want to have the redhead freak out on him. Plus, he needed to be in the drummers good side, because occasionally Pickles got to bring home any of the pizzas or fried food that was getting close to it's pull date. Once and a blue moon, Pickles even got to bring home snack cakes and other treats that were going to be thrown away, so it was invaluable that the blond kept at least in his good graces.

Sure enough, the redhead bounced through the door, dreadlocks swinging wildly. The smell of stale pizza wafted over, grabbing the blond's attention.

"Hey there Swkisgaar.. " the redhead grinned, pulling out a joint from his pocket. He looked around a bit, taking in the state of the house "so.. Just got up eh?"

"Jas… justs wokes up, washed min clothesks like dildos peasants" the blond snorted, pulling his lanky frame up to sit properly as Pickles plopped down, box of greasy pizza on his lap. He grabbed a slice, not caring that it was on the cool shade of lukewarm. Food was food.

"Yah, know what dat goes..ya know, me and Nathan been thinkin' about settin' up an audition to try to get us a new rythim, seein' as yer now the lead and whatnots" the Wisconsin native grinned in between bites of pizza.

"Ja? I stills thinks we ams shoulds be a one guittarrs bands.. I cans do both de rythimns am de leads.." Swkisgaar mumbled as he leaned in for a second slice.

"That is all well and good, but wot aboot da show, eh? Can't play both live, ya no?"

"Hmmmmnn.. wells, ifs we gets a rythimsks guitarists, den he no ammnest as goods as mes, ja? He has to do whats I says, and he cans no have de solos. Or de same guitars. " the blond said thoughtfully, reclinging back into the sofa. He never wanted to go through the shit he had to put up with that bastard Magnus.

"Makes sense, ya know.. don' wan' another Magnus doo we?"

"Jas… and I writes des musiks for de rythimks and de leads..so dis ways he no cans takes my places"

Pickels thought that was a good idea as he lit up his joint and inhaled deeply before offering the blond a joint. Soon the room became hazy with the smoke as the guitarist contemplated the celling stains.

A few days later

Chuck had rented a rehearsal space for Dethlok in a old, rundown building that was a converted warehouse. The band had printed off cheap flyers on tacky blood red paper, stapling them to every available telephone pole and gas station bulletin board. The flyer itself was simple "Death Metal band seeks brutal guitarist.. Auditions from noon til six. "

The group set themselves up at eleven, lugging the amps from Mordhaus to Nathan's pathetic pickup truck, all the way to the stage area. Pickles was clutching a cup of coffee with a generous dose of whiskey in it, and Nathan kept slamming down his small pile of dollar store brand energy drinks. Murderface was happily stabbing the stage with his knife in between sips of gas station fountain soda that looked like urine. The only one that didn't seem nearly hung over or miserable was the Swede, who was simply irritated.

The blond paced the stage a few times before settling down on a amp, fitfully playing his guitar. He thought that the best way to try people's true skills out was to play something original on the spot and see if they could keep up.

By noon, there was a large gathering of various guitarists. Skwisgaar looked down his slightly hooked nose at them all, sneering. Did they really think they had what it would take to defeat him? That they could be as good as he was? These pathetic fleshy balls of humanity ranged from grungy grease-balls with pizza-face acne to hardened, grizzled guitar veterans. Scrawny crack-whore guitarists ( some of who the blond may or may not have fucked into a semen soaked mattress a time or two) stood next to tiny teeny-bopper Emo boys who looked about as brutal as a marshmallow. They tried looking fierce as they flipped their black-eyed Justin Beaver bangs out of their face, making Skwisgaar want to bash their prepubescent faces in with the blunt end of his Explorer. He couldn't help it, he hated pampered little shits who tried being "metal" with their mommies credit cards and a trip to the local Hot Topic.

Skwisgaar seethed inwardly, taking in the looks from the wanna-bes in the crowd. Most of the guitarists looked cocky, too sure of themselves. Bullshit, he was going to change that.

He clenched his all-white Explorer, and started shredding, fast and furious. He took all his hatred and anger out in a complicated, shrill melody that left the crowd gasping. From the corners of his eyes, he noticed some of the crowd simply pick up their guitars and leave. Good, the dildos know better.

One by one, he out-dueled them, taking hardly any time to even give them a chance. He was determined to be the only guitarist of Dethklok. Some opponents crumpled in pathetic heaps, others ranted and raved like idiots at not being "fair"-who the fuck said metal was fair? Dildos Americans can suck my cocks. Fucks them, ja? He was the bestest, he was the fucking master of the guitar. A god damn guitar god. They could bow down and suck his guitar god cock for all he cared.

After the area was finally cleared of the guitar vermin, Skwisgaar relaxed his body tense and aching. His fingers were sore, and he felt lightheaded as he headed towards the darkest part of the staging area. The stupid gold floating spots were back with vengeance, and he felt like he head might actually explode. It didn't help he was faint with hunger.

He looked up from the safety of his dark corner, and noticed from the tall windows against the celling that the sun was beginning to set in shades of orange and red. The warehouse-turned-stage was taking on a redish hue. How long had he been dueling against these American Dildos?

"Someone keeps on knocking!" Nathan growled "Someone is at the door..or whatever"

A young boy appeared at the doorway, before haltingly coming closer. Skwisgaar could see that the boy was trembling ever so slightly as he edged his way to the stage. He raked his eyes over the boy, taking in his shabby state of dress. He was skinny to the point of nearly skeletal, his high cheekbones jutting out sharply, and his jawline was set. His eyes were slightly sunken in, but it was the color and emotion that they betrayed that nearly took the Swede's breath away. The boy's eyes were a stormy shade of blue-grey, and wide. Untold depths, months of hunger and pain flickered under its stormy seas, eyes that had witnessed unbelievable brutality despite the boy's young age.

"h-hellos.. m-mys names ams Tokis.. " the young boy softly murmered, the accent oddly birdlike and musical. His stormy blue eyes darted about nervously, trying to seek something from one of the band members. "I ams from Norways….I-I'ms so sads.. I gots losts alongs de ways heres.. so, um.. I thinks I misseds my auditiok-tions appo-tuneitments todays..I'ms va-rey sorries " He looked down shyly, his chestnut hair falling in a curtain over his face as he nervously pulled off his floppy hat. The boy's battered, and scarred looking hands twisted the felt fabric of the hat as he waited for a response from one of the men.

"B-buts I thinks that's yous shoulds gives me a chances an-ee-howss.. " he whispered, almost to himself. The boy got down on his knees, pleading to at least let him try to play for him.

The Swede felt a stab somewhere in his heart. Something about this poor mangy kid was hitting a cord on some very non-metal emotions. What was it? Pity, symptathy? Something akin to lust? The boy was pretty, with kitten-fine bone structure, and had a nice sounding soft little voice. Maybe it was those long fingers of his clenching at that silly looking hat.

Pickles' double-peirced eyebrow arched up as he stared at the kid, then to Skwisgaar reclinging on an amp in the shadows. The Wisconsin native felt bad for the kid, he really did. He hoped the Swede would at least allow the poor kid to try out.

"Alrights.. joos seems so nices. … " the blond's velvety baritone answered from the shadows. "buts it's a shames that joo must goes downs this ways"

He stood, cracking his back in a few places, before picking up his weapon of choice, the Explorer. He pulled the strap on, then started in with a long shred before delving into some complicated, break-neck paced notes.

The boy flinched slightly, before pulling his battered Flying V out. He answered and complimented the melody from the blond. It added a richness to his notes, a complexity, grounding his higher notes with heavier beats. Skwisgaar was flying through notes as fast as he could, each time being answered by the Flying V. Note for note, his guitar was balanced and complimented by the boy, who was playing in harmony with him like it was the most natural thing in the entire world. Skwisgaar was pushed to his very limits until the boy faltered, collapsing into his hands and knees.

The boys hair covered his face as he looked down at the floor. Skwisgaar had never seen anything so pathetic looking then this half-starved to death teen with battered hands and… bruised arms? The blond noticed a large bruise creeping down under one of the boy's shirt sleeves, and a few deeply embedded scars on the backs of the arms.

"Oh… you were so very close!" Pickles said, frowning a bit. He felt bad, but the kid blew the last part of the melody.

"Yeah.. but you blew the last part" Nathan glowered before the bassist said harshly "Itssh timesh for yoush to goesh nows"

Skwisgaar, god of guitar and sex, was now having an internal battle with himself. Yes, he wanted to be the only guitar player of Dethklok, but this shabby little kid made him sound better, play better. The kid grounded his fast pace playing, gave it body, and depth. He would have to be retarded to let that walk out the door. Besides… a small part of him, the tiny kernel of human decency that he had, knew that this kid had nowhere else to go. It was obvious with the sizes-to-big stained shirt, and the torn, ripped jeans and those horribly ugly moccasin shoes. The kid didn't even have a proper backpack, from what he could see. Just a pathetic 90's fanny pack that was held together with some black duct tape.

Maybe the kid was still impressionable. Yeah, that's right… trainable, like a young colt. He seemed like he was eager to please. Maybe..maybe Swkisgaar could train him just enough, but not too much so that the kid got any big ideas. And if the kid tried to overcome his superior, Skwisgaar could always point out that everything the kid had was thanks to him.

Deeper still, as he looked at the kid, warmth flared in him. He wanted to protect this poor idiot kid, and maybe help him in some way. He didn't think that anyone was actually nice to the boy, and he needed a hand. He, of all people, knew what it was like being a kid on the streets after he ran away from home.

"Befores joo leaves.. joo musts understands… dat no-bodies evers mades me plays dis wells. Theres-fours I wants joo in the band." Skwisgaar found himself saying


	2. Chapter 2-edited verson

Authors Notes: I do not own Dethklok, sadly. I don't own anything. I have no money.

I had to re-edit this chapter.. because I made a kind of stupid mistake.. I thought Toki was a Type One diabetic, which wouldn't actually make any sense because he was always eating candy and junk all through season one. Type 2 would make more sense for him to become diabetic from all that. So, switched it up to be more accurate. Sorry about that.

Also, please assume words in italics are the two guitarists speaking in their native language

Chapter Two

Toki's face broke into the biggest, goofiest grin Skwisgaar has ever seen. It was radiant, and the boy's eyes shown with true happiness. Odin, he was beautiful when he smiled. It was like a sun was bubbling up within the boy, lighting him from the inside out.

The blond let his guard down lightly only have brunet wrap his long, bony arms in a crushing, brutal hug. The strength of those arms was shocking, seeing as how pathetically skinny they were.

"T-thanks yous so muchs! I've nevers beens so happy's in my lifes!" the boy cried out happily under Skwisgaars chin.

"I… ughs.. cants brethes.. baby dildos.." he grinned over caramel colored hair.

"Looks like ya gat yer self a pal, thare " Pickles smiled at the two guitarists, as the blond was obviously trying to ply his way out from the little brunet's grasp. The look on blondies' face was just too perfect-a mixture of discomfort and awkward happiness. He didn't have to long to gloat as Toki pelted at the drummer, enveloping him in a crushing hug as well, the Norwegian babbling happily in a mixture of his native tongue and garbled English.

Pickles found himself laughing "Kid, I got no feckin' idea what da hell yer sayin', but your welcome all the same, dood. "

"Thas shoo fuchim gaysh" Murderface mumbled as he hauled some equipment back to Nathan's truck. He pushed the newest member away, refusing a "gay as fuck hug", which bewildered the Norwegian a little before he tried hugging a glowering Nathan, who just sighed as he ackwardly patted the kid's head like he was a good dog.

"Ugh… so..welcome to Dethklok" the lead singer mumbled, shifting slightly. " Um… I'm Nathan… I..uh.. write the songs and shit.. and I.. uh.. sing them"

"And Ah'm Pickles the drummer…. " the redhead beamed, slapping the kid on the back good naturedly, making the boy wince slightly. He gestured with his drumstick to the various members "That fat fuck over thare is Murderface.. he's the bass ' mind him, he's an ass..You met Nathan.. don't let him scare you with that death growl of his… He's a decent enough fellow, once you git ta know 'em. . blondie over there is Skwisgaar Skigelf…fastest guitarist alive.. nobody's grandma is safe from this sick feck ...its gross as all hell. By the way, he's Swedish, ya know? Maybe old ladies is like a European thing or something.. hey, ain't Sweden like near where your from…. Norway, was it?"

"Ja, Norway is right by Sweden, joo dildos.." the blond frowned. Why couldn't Americans seem to grasp the general location of his motherland? For some reason Americans only knew where things where in the United States, totally clueless as to the location of the European countries.

"Sos, Littles Tokis.. hows joo gits ahll de waysk heeres?" Skwisgaar turned his attention to the teen

"Ah.. umms… I's don's wannas talksk abouts it.. nei. " the boy looked down at his raggedy shoes, shifting uncomfortably. His scarred hands were twisting the hem of his frayed shirt, trembling slightly.

"Ja.. I under-stands okies? _Would it help if we just talked like this? Easier this way, ja? Dildos Americans can't understand us." _The blond switched to his native tongue, moving slightly closer so that they could talk privately. He switched topics to music to get the kid to calm down a little more. That tiny little question hit a raw nerve in the kid, spooking him. He saw the pain in those grey-blue eyes, something haunting lurking in those depths that borderlined on terror. They soon were speaking about favorite bands, and their beloved guitars.

Pickles nudged Nathan slightly and motioned over at the two Scandinavians talking quietly in their own language. "See… there getting' along jus' fine.."

"Um.. enough talking.. we need to clear out" Nathan mumbled, shuffling back into the rehearsal space to pick up his few left over energy drinks.

Skwisgaar sighed, cracking his back slightly before following his band back into the rehearsal space to gather their various equipment. Thankfully, the boy offered to help lug up the amps to Nathan's battered pickup truck. The blond couldn't have lifted those amps with the ease the kid managed to do, lifting them like a child picks up a box of cereal. He himself could barely lift more than his Explorer and a bag of cords at the moment. He was amazed how strong the boy was, easily carrying the larger amps by himself on his shoulders. The kid was grinning like a moron the whole time, even as he loaded up the truck. The whole while, he chattered about in Norwegian, and when the other band mates were near, spoke kindly to them in his broken, song-like English. He also went out of his way to help the drummer carry things, noticing how the small redhead was having problems lifting equipment that was almost as high as his chest, and probably weighed half what he did.

"Yer a good kid.." Pickles laughed, watching Toki carry his original amp, as well as the amp the drummer was carrying. Toki beamed ear to ear.

"ugh.. the kids.. like too happy or something. That isn't metal" the lead whispered to his drummer

"Nah.. you can' tell dat this kid's brutal as a feckin' blizzard in Siberia. He's jus' happy right now, ya know? Probably wanderin aboot the streets for months.. God knows how the fuck he ended up here.. shit… I dun' think I wanna know.. he's a good kid.."

Skwisgaar felt himself becoming light headed from exhaustion, and felt his vision start to tunnel in slightly. He swayed slightly, sweating profusely under the heat from the warehouse lamps.

"_Skwisgaar.. are you alright_?" Toki cried out, carefully setting down pair of amps he was lugging. Thankfully, he was close by, grabbing the taller man by the shoulders and guiding him to sit down on the edge of the stage.

"_Huh_?" the blond blinked, his vision slightly blurred as three Toki's were now staring deep with his x-ray eyes. His body suddenly felt icy cold.

"Pickle… Skwisgaar isnsnk feelings weels .. " he called out to the drummer , who rushed over.

"Ho-boy.. yeah.. Blondie looks a wee bit pasty, don' he?" Pickles leaned in, feeling the taller man's damp forehead. It was burning up, that was sure. He didn't even think the elf could get sick, hung over, sure. Maybe it was because the band hadn't had a proper paying gig in months, and were currently living on ramen noodles, and whatever stale gas station pizza Pickles could smuggle home.

"Let's wrap it up here, and get him in the truck, ok?"

"Is Skwisgaar sicks?"

"No, probably just needs some food and a drink."

Toki had the blond lean against him as they walked out into the cool night air. The older man was feeling better with the fresh air, but he was still feeling light headed , and vaguely nauceous. He collapsed into the back seat of Nathan's truck, head rolling back as he closed his eyes.

Toki carefully climbed in next to the man, careful not to wake him. Alone, in the truck, Toki took a moment to admire his superior. The light was fading fast-a red tinged with purple now- and it was playing against the older man's features. Gold eyebrows, gracefully curved and equistily arched, were now relaxed on the man's noble brow. Spun gold hair framed his face, falling in soft waves against his high, prominante cheekbones. The light made a breathtaking juxtaposition of alabaster cheekbone, against the smokey plum hallow of the man's cheeks. Toki suddenly wished he owned a camera, a sketchbook, anything so he could capture this moment forever. His eyes wandered to the man's lips, which seemed like they were the only thing soft on him. They were lusciously full, tempting.

Something tugged a little bit at Toki's heart. It was a dull ache, a feeling of true longing.

his new band mates piled into the car. Skwisgaaar woke up with a start, then relaxed when he realized that it was the brunet that was sandwiched next to him.

Toki didn't mind when he got sandwiched between Murderface and bassist smelled really bad though, like a men's urinal at a seedy truck stop. Toki found himself edging a little closer to his new Swedish friend as the other brunet got out that weird looking knife and was playing with it. He found that the blond had put his arm up and around the back of the seat, making slightly more room.

Murderface was complaining the whole way home about being stuck in the back seat while the drummer got to ride shotgun.

"itsch not fair you guysh! I'm the fat one, so why do I haf to ride stuffed in the back like a fucking kid with these two fuckfaces?"

"Because Pickles has been here the longest, asshole" Nathan mumbled "So he gets shotgun"

"And yer de bass, douche bag.." the drummer added helpfully

"Dood, you ok now, man? You passed out on us like a little girl thare" Pickles turned around to get a good look at the lead guitarist

"Ja… needs some reals foods not dildos cards-boars-hyn-drakesk.. I wants meats"

"ramen is real food.."

"no.. isch notsch"

"ugh….can we like really not talk about food.. I'm getting hungry"

"_Don't mind the fatass… he always complains_."Skwisgaar pointed out, noticing the kid's discomfort.

They pulled up at Mordhaus, and unloaded the truck. The equipment was stored in the garage, which served as part as an impromptu rehearsal space.

"Hey.. I just realized we don' have a place ta put the kid.." Pickles pointed out. Magnus's room was taken over by the bassist without a few hours of the former lead guitarists' departure. The rest of them had their own tiny, cramped rooms, Nathan and Pickles having the two larger ones.

"I ams oks on de floors.. I don minds" Toki smiled as he set down his guitar in an out of the way corner. "I sleepsk on floor alls de times"

"Ahh… hey nows.. we can' have da kid sleepin' on the floor ..we can jus' set up the sofa or somethin', ya know?"

"Little Tokis.. wheres ur tings ats?"

"_I.. only have this with me_" the boy gestured to his guitar "_my pack just has some change,um... and don't laugh.. but this._" Toki took out a key chain with a cat figurine on it. It was one of those lucky white calico cats that Skwisgaar occasionally saw in the windows of Asian nail places. Beckoning cat or something like that. "_Its supposed to be good luck" _he explained sheepishly "Besides, cats ams cool"

Nathan took Toki upstairs and showed him around a little bit, before sitting next to him on the sofa, and letting the kid pick a TV station.

"Wowwie.. I's nevers gets to watch TVs.." the brunet grinned at Skwisgaar made his way up the stairs of the split-level.

Skwisgaar sat next to Toki on the couch, suddenly wishing Mordhaus was cleaner, and smelled of something besides stale beer, vomit and pot. This surely wasn't a good environment for a teenager. Hell, he doubted it was even a good environment for anyone. He glanced over at the boy, who seemed quite content in watching some nature TV show with animals on it.

Pickles started rummaging in their oversized down stairs closet, looking for spare blankets. He found some blue sheets, and a slightly ragged quilt his mom once got from somewhere in Iowa. The colors were hardly fitting for a teenage boy-soft pastel floral calico fabric danced merrily against a white background. Oh well, the redhead mused, it would have to do.

Toki sat on the sofa as Pickles and Skwisgaar were digging through their belongings for something to share with the kid. Murderface was less then helpful, and was a bit of a hoarder, so they didn't even consult him. Nathan was generally too big for anything of his to fit the boy's slender frame. The lead singer did, however, come up with a pillow and a dragon nightlight, and a midnight blue fuzzy throw blanket.

"Um… here" Nathan mumbled, setting down the items carefully before shuffling off towards his bedroom.

"T-thanks.. Na'tan!" Toki chirped, as he snuggled the fuzzy throw blanket.

Skwisgaar unearthed several faded blue tee shirts that wasn't quiet his style, and a pair of khakis that was a shade too small. They might just fit the boy. He also found a sweater that he brought over from Sweden. It was a little too big for him, but might fit. Fairly soon he had a small pile of items that could be useful. At the bottom of his closet, he found a pair of grey sweat pants what was left over from one of his sluts that was slowly becoming a regular groupie. They said "PINK!" down the left leg, as well as the rear end. It would have to do. Skwisgaar smiled a little, thinking that his new rhythm might look good with the word Pink written across his cute little backside. Wait, what? Where did that come from?

He brought his pile out to the boy, as he and Pickles helped set the "bed" up. Pickles fluffed the pillows, feeling oddly maternal about the whole thing. Skwisgaar took Toki into the bathroom, and handed him the last clean towel and explained in Swedish that Toki was to clean himself up.

"_Oh… oks. Are you sure this is ok_?"

"_Ja.. its fine. Besides, you are filthy. You need to wash up_." With that, he handed over a washcloth, and the Pink! Sweatpants, along with a oversized white tee shirt that he found. He halfheartedly hoped that the white tee shirt didn't belong to Nathan, but then again, when did the lead singer ever wear anything that wasn't black?

Toki waited awkwardly until the blond left the room. He gingerly took off his stained tee shirt, wincing as the fabric grazed a sensitive scar, or the newest set of bruises and cuts.

He fidgeted with the shower, not understanding how to turn the water on. Great, now he was naked in a strange house full of strange men. Awkward didn't even begin to cover it.

Skwisgaar was waiting for the water to turn on right away. When it didn't he realized that he forgot to tell the kid how to work the shower. Without thinking he pushed the door open a crack to stick his head in.

"_You needs to turn the middle one all the ways, then turn on the hot water. After that_.. " Skwisgaar's voice got caught in his throat. He hadn't meant to look but he saw the boy's backside. It was the deep purple bruise that spread from his upper left arm to the middle of his back that caught his eye first. That was until he noticed the webbing of lash marks criss crossing the boy's back. Some were white against the tan skin, others were raised and red, newer, angrier. The boy's ribs stuck out , and his hip bones jutted out almost artistically. He had never seen something that was so beautiful and damaged at the same time.

"Odin…" Skwisgaar breathed

Toki turned around, his eyes wide as he tried to shyly cover himself with the towel. "Sk-Skwisgaar!"

"…. _Who did such a thing to you, Little Toki?_" he whispered softly, approaching him like he would a skittish colt. Already the rythim guitarist was barely containing a tremor.

Toki hung his head, obscuring his face with his chestnut colored hair. His shoulders were starting to tremble slightly. He hiccupped a bit, sniffling.

"I… " Toki began, swallowing hard

"_You can trust me, Little Tokis..its ok_."

Toki only shook harder, his hands curled into tight fists. Tears were falling down onto the cracked and stained tile.

"_My father_.." hiccup

"_Your father did this_?"

"_My mother too_.." Toki put his forearm in front of his eyes, as if he was trying to press out the tears. The other hand was now tightly knotted against his chest near his heart. He didn't even care that the towel was threatening to slide down his bony hips.

"_Why did they do this to you_?"

"_Because I was a demon child…. I was bad. I had to get the devil punished out of me_"

"_You got to be kidding me_"

More quiet sobs

"_It hurt so much.. it still hurts..I must be evil.. bad.. to always be treated this way. My village.. they were afraid of me . I never did anything to them at all_."

"_So they beat you like a god damn horse_?"

Toki took a shaky breath "_y-yeah.. I guess so… maybe I deserved it.. I don't know anymore._ "

"_No one deserves to be treated like that Little Toki. No one. You deserve so much better than to be treated that way_"

Toki smiled up at him through his tears, breaking his heart. "_You are so nice… no one has ever said that to me before_"

"_Everything is going to be ok, you are in Dethklok now. We are going to be the most brutal metal band in the world, and no one can ever hurt us again._"

Skwisgaar grinned at the boy, whose tears had now dried up. He started up the shower for the kid, and explained what products to use where, and quietly slipped out the door.

He leaned against the closed bathroom door, eyes closed. _Odin, what was he going to do now?_

Toki emerged from the shower after nearly half an hour, skin rosy pink and steaming. He felt renewed in some way. He had a place to stay, and a place in the band. He finally had a place he could call home. He felt so happy-it was like a big fluffy kitty cat was curled up in his chest. He nearly forgotten how happiness felt like. It had been years.

He pulled on the grey sweatpants Skwisgaar kindly provided him, before tugging on the way oversized white tee shirt. It hung down nearly to his knees, which thankfully obscured the "pink" logo that was perched on his butt.

His hair was still soaking wet when the lead guitarist poked his head in again to check up on his rythim counterpart. "Tokis, yous needs to dry de hairs.. ughh… joo didnsk use de condit-tion-nears I tolds joos to uses?"

Toki's lips twiced slightly as he stared at Skwisgaar from the mirror "um.. _Thanks, Swkisgaar_.." he tried combing out his hair, but it got caught in one of the many tangles and snarles. " ugh.. stupids hairs"

"Heres.. I combs outs for yous" he took the comb away, making the boy sit on the toilet facing the tank. Skwisgaar took out a yellow spray bottle of hair oil, and started liberally coating the boy's caramel colored hair down.

Skwisgaar started at the bottom of the boy's ragged hair, slowly and patently undoing months of snarls. He worked up higher, amazed at how nice and silky it was becoming. Toki was relaxing finally, nearly leaning into it. The blond worked higher up, combing through the hair fully now, the caramel hair shiny with the hair oil spray. The only thing marring the hair's beauty was the torn-looking ends, which looked like they had been cut with a dull pocket knife.

"_Tokis.. what happened to your hair? Why are the ends so torn_?"

"_I used to have it longer, but … some bad guys jumped me and cut it short because they said I looked too much like a girl.. now it's like this..its ugly, I know_." Toki spoke to the wall

"_How long did you have it before they cut it_..?"

Toki gestured to the middle of his back, slightly longer then the blond's own. "_I had long hair since I was thirteen.._."

"Hey girls..quit hoggin' tha bathroom.. I realli got to pee!" the drummer called out on the other side of the door

"Oks" as the Scandiavians filed out. "fines"

Skwisgaar maneuvered Toki into the kitchen, which had slightly better lighting then the rest of Mordhaus. Which wasn't really saying much-the whole house had shitty lighting in general where there was actual celing fixtures. The rest of the house was lit with red Christmas lights or red light bulbs, which gave it a very brothel-y Red Light district feel to it. The kitchen was in worse state then normal, with Pickles and Murderface going on a rampage. A few nights ago, the drummer decided that hash browns and fried eggs sounded delightful while he was high. The end result was burnt potato shreds sticking to the last remaining skillet, and egg pieces everywhere. The bassist cooked up some type of hamburger helper-type meal, adding to the pile, and giving the kitchen a distinct smell of rotting meat and cheese.

"_Okays, Toki.. I need to trim up your hair. You can't go around with it all frayed like that_." He sat the boy down on a wobbly barstool (which may or may not have been lifted from an actual bar by the drummer) and took a pair of kitchen scissors to the boy's locks.

"Trim?"

"_Ja.. your hair is all uneven.. looks really dildos. I can fix it up for you._."

"_You cut hair too_?"

"_Don't be stupid.. I can only do trims and shit.. I do Na'tan's hair all the time_"

"… _Ok.. I trust you_"

Toki watched, fascinated as little bits of his hair fluttered to the floor. He was worried at first, but soon didn't mind as the lead guitarist trimmed away. He lifted his eyes up, and watched his face as the blond concentrated on the task at hand. His golden eyebrows were furrowed, pronouncing the arch. Frost blue eyes were narrowed slightly as he snipped away.

Soon, Toki was sporting a slightly shagged bob cut, with some cleaver layers and blunt edges. Skwisgaar stood back to admire his handiwork. It wasn't a professional job in any way, but, as he mussed the boys hair up, the layers fell nicely. It had a rugged effect, which contrasted nicely against the boy's slightly feminine features. Plus, this way the hair could grow out down to his shoulders and still look good.

"Nice." Nathan commented as he reached into the fridge to grab a beer "he doesn't look homeless now. He could pass as some one's kid brother now."


	3. Breakfast at Mordhaus

Authors Note: I do not own Dethklok, or anything. I don't make money off this. Yeah. Also, I want to apologize for taking a little longer then I should with updating this chapter.

Two Weeks Later…

Skwisgaar was sleeping into the wee hours of "morning", well-morning for metal heads anyway, which normally fell somewhere between noon and three in the afternoon. It was one of the few nights that he properly slept in a bed, rather than waking up in a pool of his own vomit, face down in the beer stained pea-green shag carpet of Mordhaus, or the nondescript red carpet of some random seedy hotel Chuck tossed them into.

He woke up feeling good. That was….. different. Usually he felt like crap the second he regained consciousness. The usually culprits were chronic dehydration, perpetual hangovers, and after effects of whatever drug he had enough money to blow on, preferably crystal meth, or a nice helping of some good quality chronic Pickles got from his friendly neighborhood drug dealer two blocks away. Even if he wasn't hung over, drugged out, he usually didn't get much sleep after a round of fucking the remaining brains out of whatever skanky piece of ass he could stuff his dick into. And he usually had a lot of skanky pieces of ass, several at a time. If he got bored, he would kick them out with a sneer. Stupid sluts just couldn't get enough, crawling back for more like pathetic masochistic slaves. But, today, he woke up sans hangover, alone (but still naked) and feeling fairly good.

He stood up and stretched lazily like a cat, bending out any kinks. He dug in a pile of clothes mounding on the floor for a pair of sweatpants –the Swede slept nude, and knew his band mates would have a shit fit of homophobia if he started to prance about merrily in his birthday suit. Murderface himself would probably gag on his own tongue if he saw the blond nude. Nathan would just grumble about clothes-well, at least something covering the genitals. Pickles was the only other one who would also saunter saucily about buck naked and not give two rats asses stapled together. But, the redhead was also a former glam rock star and … well, that was back in the 80's, he probably seen and done it all. He personally didn't give a flying fuck what his band mates thought, but he felt he should at least attempt some form of decency with the new kid in the band. No need to scare him off. The newest, and youngest member was outrageously modest, and slightly shy around anyone who wasn't the Swede.

He was greeted with the scent of eggs, bacon and something sweet like pancakes wafting through the air. And… coffee?

Yes.. fresh coffee was definitely brewing. Since when did the coffee maker work?

His mouth watered. This would beat his stale toast with margarine any day-well, the days that they had enough money for bread anyhow.

.

Skwisgaar blinked several times as he reached the kitchen. This was… different.. The drifts of empty beer were gone from the hallways and the living room. He noticed that he didn't have to wade through them.

Nathan was hunched over a cup of steaming coffee, looking out of place against the pastel quilt and the baby blue sheets that were carefully folded up on the couch. They were still working on getting the newest member his own space in Mordhaus. First, they had to unearth that space. Pickles and Nathan were still working on that in short burst in between their pathetic part time jobs, getting drunk, being drunk, trying to write music, and being hung over.

The Swede rounded the corner to get to the kitchen, finding Pickles was clad in his favorite pair of ratty jeans and a sleeveless black tee shirt, perched on a sparkling clean countertop as a happy Norwegian fried some bacon.

There was a god.. and he was currently wearing women's sweatpants and an oversized white tee shirt. At least this outfit was better then the boy prancing about in a pair of the drummer's sleep boxers, which ended up as hot pants on the teen.

Skwisgaar mentally groaned. He was just going to have to bite the bullet and get some money together to buy the kid something else to wear besides some skanky, Swedish semen-drenched sweatpants (to be fair, they were washed before Toki first wore them.. well, probably..).

"Hey… sleepin' beauty.. guess wot? Yer little Norway buddy can really clean up." Pickles grinned, gesturing with a sweeping motion with a slice of crispy bacon. "Little fecker did it all 'imself.. well, minus the breakfas' part, dough.. I had ta help 'im gets some ingrediants, first."

Skwisgaar looked around, a golden eyebrow shooting upwards. Once a filthy, rank-smelling, dimly lit section that severed only as a space to store beer, chill beer, and occasionally heat up ramen noodles to enjoy over the sink. The surfaces were scrubbed clean of all its built on grime of months of neglect. The floor was scrubbed too-revealing sparkling (yet still cracked and damaged) off white tiles. Skwisgaar always thought they were mushroom-brown. He blinked again, trying to figure out in his sleepy haze why it was so bright in the kitchen, when he realized that the windows were washed clean, and the red pillowcase that was stapled over part of it was taken down. The coffee maker was gleaming, fresh coffee at the ready.

"hows.. hows dids joo dos alls dis? "

"_Good morning!_ Pickle tooks mes to de foods places..Pickle says I may-bees took back de cans.. and gots monies for dis cans! So, I buys breaks feasts fours joos and new bands-makes. Sees? "

Toki grabbed a clean plate from cupboard, and served up some bacon, scrambled eggs, and three small, fluffy pancakes. "Pickle made pant-cakes… I nots verries goods at flipsk't dems" he said almost apologeticly as he served himself up some eggs.

Skwisgaar accepted the plate, before moving to sit down next to Nathan, who was still nursing his cup of black coffee. Skwisgaar started to dig in as Toki and Pickles joined them on the couch. Toki sat down on the floor, inbetween the Swede's legs and the drummer's legs, and started watching the daytime TV with an enraptured expression as he ate. It was some children's cartoon show featuring prancing, pastel ponies that talked. Nathan tolerated it, because , fuck… and Pickles thought the pink pony was fucking hilarious, but Pickles was also working on getting drunk, his Irish coffee probably more booze then coffee.

_This must be what family feels like. _

After everyone was finished eating, Toki leapt up to gather the dishes from the other members, before washing each dish carefully in the sink. He didn't say much, just smiled happily. Skwisgaar was watching him out of the corners of his eyes, admiring his long, slender frame, and the boyish bob cut. He liked watching Toki's face the most, the way the kid smiled, even when taking out mold-encrusted garbage from the bathroom, how the smallest thing could make the little dildo happy as a shit eating retard in a chocolate factory on free stickers day . It was rather adorable.

After the band members were fully awake, somewhere between the eigth and ninth cup of blacker then blackest black coffee, Nathan started in on putting together a few songs for a gig. Dethklok had a amazing, but somewhat limited repertoire of songs, and they needed to do so much to become bigger, badder. If this was the game of Cards Against Humanity, then Dethklok would be the Biggest Blackest Dick card.

"Skwisgaar, we need to have you working with Toki on the rythim part of the songs and ugh.. yeah. He needs to get down The Hammer, and .. fuck.. we really need to make up a few more songs.. and they have to be fucking brutal .. shit.."Nathan said heavily, before rummaging around for his crappy little beat up recorder –normally, the fucking thing was just in the couch's crack somewhere.

"Uh… anyone see my fuck mothering recorder..?"

"Toki have you seen Nathan's recorder.. it's about this big.." Skwisgaar translated, noticing the lead singer about to lose his shit, gesturing with his hands the size and shape of the recorder.

"Fuckins shcichks.. fuckinsh faggots.." Murderface spat as he came in, just as the Swede was trying to explain with his hands about how big the recording device was, because Toki was having a hard time picturing it "talkings aboutsch discks. .. thatsh shoo gaayy"

"Fuck off Murderface.. have you seen my fucking recorder?"

Toki finally got it, and went off to fetch the recorder from a basket on top of the crappy little 27 inch TV.

He handed it to Nathan with a look of apology, mumbling something to Skwisgaar

"Toki says he ams sorries. Hes thoughts it was.. Tee Vee re-roachs, so he puts away"

"ugh. Thanks"

Nathan's face was furrowed as he tried to figure out the lyrics to the next song. He had a beat up compostion book open on his lap-the majority of the pages filled it with doodles, scribbles, and skulls. That, and poorly drawn metal chicks with boobs you could ski off of.

/s/ "_Come on Toki, we should work on the songs again_"

/n/ "_Why is Nat'tan upset? Did I do something wrong_?"

Toki followed obediently to the Swede's room,picking up with crappy Flying V from the corner. Skwisgaar shut the door, and plopped down on his crisp, white bed.

Toki sat down on the bed next to him, looking at him with those pale baby blues that borderlined on pale grey. He watched the blond's as he did the beginning thirty seconds of The Hammer, which Toki would play back, nearly flawless. But nearly wasn't good enough, and the Swede sighed.

"_You sound dildos.. again_"

".._sorries_" as Toki's head bent down, forcing his fingers through the first cords.

It went on that way for hours, and Toki's fingers were starting to bleed, but the teen said nothing as he played the melody to the crystal clear crying of the Explorer 's main rifts. The Flying V took on a velvety richness as the Gibson Explorer seemed to shine out brighter, clearer, brittle and sharp like a sword of glass.

Skwisgaar felt bad about pushing the boy as far as he did, but it had to be done. They played The Hammer completely through several times, this time Skwisgaar tweeking certain aspects to reach a better sound. Magnus would be furious if he knew that the song he wrote was being played a million times better by a boy not even half his age. He gave Toki a shit eating grin as Toki played note by note perfectly.

"_You did very good! We need to take a break right now_. " Skwisgaar stood, getting the krinks out of his back. Toki did the same, but winced as he put the guitar down. His hands were now a mess, blood crusted into his nail beds.

"_Shits..we need to get that cleaned up_"

Skwisgaar grabbed some dollar store antibiotics, and some crappy bandaids from the bathroom, and a damp, but clean wash rag. He came back to the room, kneeling in front of Toki as he took the boy's hands in his.

"_This looks so very_ _ this might hurt a bit" _Skwisgaar said as he started to clean the blood off, inspecting for damage. He smeared some of the medicinal smelling cream on, wrapping each finger tightly in a Band-Aid. A guitarists fingers was his life, after all. It wouldn't do if the teen got his fingers fucked up.

"_You are really nice, Skwisgaar_" Toki said underneath his curtain of caramel mane.

"_Not really. Ask anyone.. I'm a dick_. "

"_But your are nice to me.._"

"_But your playing is still dildos" _Skwisgaar chuckled_ "So, I have to get you to play better so you aren't so dildos.. otherwise, you will make me look bad"_


	4. Gummy Bear Kisses

Authors Note: I do not own Dethklok… or anything. I make no money from this. Please don't sue me. The second half is my love note to BrutalWarElf, psychedelicgoolash, and other lovers of Swistok, or Warelf.. whatever you call it. I love you guys.

A few weeks later…

Charles was incognito, a direct order from Roy Cornickles himself. He had to check up on Crystal Records "Bread and Butter", the new, fledgling dethmetal band Dethklok. The record company hasn't heard a note from them since their first.. ah.. meeting. It ended rather badly, the lead singer decking the pompous son of Roy Cornickleson's right in the face with a brutal right hand hook. Its been months since Dethklok did so much as a craptastic gig anywhere when their rhythm guitarist Magnus Hammersmith left the band suddenly. Charles heard a few rumors from his.. ah.. sources, that they got a new replacement, a rythim guitarist that was barely out of puberty. Charles hadn't seen the newest member himself.

Charles signed, resisting the urge to pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He felt self- conscious, even when he was supposedly incognito. He was wearing some crap left over during his grudge days in the 90's- shredded black skinny jeans, and a threadbare Misfits tee shirt that was sporting a few moth holes. Good thing he thought to unpack his old black, white and red flannel shirt then. It completed his grudge outfit nicely, and blended him in with the other post-grunge blue collars that were filling into the bar.

He even made sure to put in all his earrings, which glinted silver in the hazy, flickering sickening lighting that this shit hole of a bar was using. His hair was spiked up with some Bed Head glue, and his normal, wire –rimmed glasses were replaced by his black, beatnick-y ones that he never wore except on times like this. His battered, vintage Doc Martins tapped a bit to the current fuck-tard band that was currently on the pathetic stage.

Charles was so glad -no fuckwit could recognize him in his old college getup, otherwise the sorry sad fucks would be hammering him for labels for their piece of shit, cock choking garage band. It wasn't as bad as the cunt suckers on stage, though. Charles grimaced a bit as the talentless jackoffs raped his ears with garbled screaming. It sounded like a pig gagging on a cock while being raped violently in the ass by a horse to the background of some vapid Hot Topic elevator music on Quaaludes.

"Thank you, dick shits! That was Gag Me Mercilessly!" the bar's owner announced on the mic as the posers gathered their crappy equipment off the stage. "Next up, we have Dethklok.. so sit tight and drink some fucking booze, you cunts!" he said cheerfully

Charles observed from the bar, taking it all in quietly as he sipped his toilet-water bourbon. Shit. He should have just got a beer. The crowd was starting to pour into the bar like rats swarming for a peanut-butter coated dead hooker in an alley. . The crowd really did fit the bar's name "Depths of Humanity". They were mostly strung out, over the hill blue collar jackoffs that liked to think that crappy concerts in a bar were the highlight of their life. It was like Wal-Mart on food stamp day after a Metallica concert. Jesus. Charles, a neat freak, wanted to buy a semi-truck full of Lysol and douse these fuckers down, and scrub them until they were clean. Jesus Christ shitting on the Pope, there was soap at the dollar store.. three bars of fucking soap for a whole dollar. What was so hard about that?

But he wasn't interested in that. He was more interested in the band as they started hauling their gear and setting up. In particular, the guitarists caught his eye. Skwisgaar Sk-something. Ski-elf? Skwigelf. Ah. That was it. He looked like a Tolkien elf prince, minus the pointy ears. The Swedish man towered over the others, his wavy hair seeming to faintly glow under the crappy dim lights. He moved gracefully, a shadow lingering behind him. Charles squinted closer. His emo- glasses were really out of date on the prescription lenses. The shadow was actually a smaller teen boy with a bob haircut. He moved in perfect unison with his taller counterpart. Even something as mundane as crossing the stage was fascinating as they picked up their guitars in a fluid motion, perfectly in time with each other. They mirrored their stances on their respective sides of the stage, and waited, heads down, fingers at the ready, as the other members took their places. The bassist assumed his position, legs nearly twice his shoulder widths apart, holding his bass low, his head down as well. The vibrant, red head drummer, his hair in absurd dreads was next, drumsticks posed in the air.

Charles felt the electricity crack in the air, tangible. The audience waited, breathless and silent. You could hear a pin drop in this crowded to the gills bar. His skin was starting to get goose bumps, the hair on his arms standing on end underneath the flannel sleeves. He shivered slightly, feeling the crackle of energy moving up his spine.

The lead singer, a hulking man who seemed more panther then man, took up the mic, screaming the song's title. "The HAMMER!"

The room exploded. The audience went fucking insane. Pickles the drummer was assaulting the drums, looking like a blur of arms, legs and dreadlocks. It was fucking crazy-like some brutal ass red octopus was behind the drums as he wailed away at it. The panther in man-skin started to growl the lyrics, as women lost their minds to the throaty screams. The lead's voice sounded like gravel made out of broken shards of obsidian, black diamonds, and coated in a sheen of virgin blood. It sounded torn, darker then black, and primal. The dueling guitarists were in synch, bobbing their heads at the same time, even flicking their guitars up at certain notes.

During a part where the guitars took over, the blond strutted across the stage, and the younger brunet did the same, the lead assaulting the other in a barrage of high notes that cried out. The younger boy answered him with a lower cry, responding to older man as he head banged slightly, his blond hair flying in the other's .

"_I am the Hammer.. I'll break it down.."_

Charcles found himself smiling slightly. Even though the song was exactly the same one that was brought to Crystal Mountain Records, it sounded completely different. The bass was heavier, more brutal. The drums were rapid fire and the cymbals were flashing brightly under the low budget lighting of the stage. Skwisgaar's Explorer was crying out in something akin to fierce joy, and was answered by a somehow… ah.. _warm _, if that was possible for a guitar to sound somehow warm and comforting, yet heavy rhythm section. The guitarists' fingers were blurring as they flew over the notes.

The whole song had an entirely different feeling to it. It was a song of overcoming difficulties, breaking down barriers, metal hope clothed entirely in black, but hope none the less. Originally, the song gave a feeling of domination, dominating anything and everything just for the fucking shit and giggles of it. But, this was a version that was .. so fucking different. It was like a victim of abuse standing up for its own rights, and beating the shit out of everyone who ever fucked with them. It wasn't about domination, it was about overcoming.. fuck. This was good. This was the kind of shit that myths were made out of.

Fucking shitballs. Roy Cornickleson was going to pop a boner on this one. This was god damn gold. Black gold, whatever.

It was all over too soon. Dethklok played a total of five songs, the whole set lasting less than twenty minutes. The band glowered at the audience as the collected unwashed cheered on, the teen smiling goofily as he waved back at the audience. The crowd dissipated, most of them fairly wasted. Five (?) bodies littered the floor, some with their heads bashed in, others lay in bits. A woman's body was nearest to the pile, her wrists slit with "Explode Me" carved into her thin arms. The others.. well, those were a mess of brains, guts, blood and bits. It was hard to tell who was who, but by the guess of all the entrails, it had to be at least three people. When the hell had that happened?

He was waiting for them in the back of the bar, as the band members started hauling out the amps and various cords and shit. The teen was doing most of the hauling, but was still smiling a shit eating grin the whole time as the other band members smoked a few joints.

"I.. ah.. work for Roy Cornickleson of Crystal Mountain Records.. we've.. ah.. met before." Charles said, pulling out a business card from its silver case, as he approached the group. They seemed a bit on edge, but that was understandable.

"Ugh.. yeah.. you're the dude in the suit.." Nathan mumbled, shifting slightly as he tossed back a tallboy.

"Yes, I was there when you ..ah.. punched Roy Cornickleson's son in the face.." he pushed up his glasses, looking at them all evenly as they stared at him, as if he was going to gas them like a bunch of kittens.

"Ah.. yeash.. thatchs wash sweetsch " Murderface spat

"wells, de dildos deserv-ids its , ja?" Skwisgaar said, crossing his arms.

"Whos ams hes." The boy whispered

" Hes ams works for de lab-bells so mabbe wes gits de albums ams monies.. be famous, gets goils. Ja.. " the blond explained carefully in butchered Sweglash

" wowee"

"Yes. I am Charles F Ofdenson , and I am a representative of Crystal Mountain Records. I see that you.. ah.. got yourselves a new guitarist. That is very good news to hear"

"Ja, I ams Tokis Wartooth, I ams de news ry-thems guitars-est " the teen grinned at Charles, holding a hand out to shake. Charles took it, and was very surprised by how calloused and bandaged up they were.

_Its very ..ah.. metal_

"Crystal Mountain Records would like to set up another meeting with you. We would like to take the time to go over all the necessary paperwork and contracts. We would like to have you get started on making your first album"

The rest of the band just looked at each other the two guitarists started talking quietly in their own language. The younger one was making very expressive hand gestures as he stared up at his Swedish counterpart.

"Ah.. sos.. wes goingks tos bees fam-moss nows?" the boy chirped

"Well, that depends on yo-" Charles was caught off guard as he was pelted by a skinny, half-starved Norwegian, the boy's long thin arms wrapping around his middle, nearly breaking a rib or two.

The rest of the band was grinning, and the boy released his grip.

"uh… hes really.. friendly" Nathan explained, shrugging his huge shoulders

As soon as Charles left, leaving them with a date and time for the meeting, the band erupted when they got home, sprawling out in the now clean living room of Mordhaus.

"Wes dids its." Toki cried out happily, whooping into the air and prancing about like a river dancer high on acid. He crushed everyone in a hug while bouncing up and down like a preteen goth chick at a Twilight convention. Pickles hugged back, but then patted him on the head with a look of apology on his face.

"Hey nows.. we finali gat a record.. nat jus a single like we did last time. We haven' don' nothing yet. You douchebags don' know all the work that goes into it..but Ah doo. We need to start on at least ten to fifteen more songs, and practice the feck outta dem, then we gotta record, then mix the sound to git it ta sound jus' right, then we go on to show it to our producers. Then they pick which ones end up on the album. From there, it's all feckin production-getting' the CD out ta the public, flyers, posters, regular jackoff events. Gittin' our names out, so the dumb fuck regular jackoffs know who the fuck we are.."

Pickles said, inbetween hits of his joint "You dumbshits jus' don' know..Ah do, Ah've been there" he jabbed a thumb at himself

"Wowwee.. reallies, Pickle?" Toki said, sitting cross-legged on the floor near the TV so he could face everyone. His face lit up in awe.

"Sure Ah do.. Ah was the lead singer in Snakes N' Barrels." Pickles said, annoyed. Didn't these dumb cock-suckers remember anything he told them? Fuck. It was like babysitting some times, but then again he was the oldest member, and the only one to get an actual fucking career out of music. He almost forgot that most of the other members were probably in elementary school during his rise to fame. Toki probably wasn't even born then. Fuck.

"Ugh.. guys. The meeting is like.. one in the fucking afternoon." Nathan grumbled, putting down his latest book on human anatomy. "that means we need to WAKE UP EARLY."

"So.. no drinkin' the night before ya douchebags.."

"That means you too, Pickles."

"AH, FUCK YOU!"

Toki was too excited to sleep, so he lay on his back, staring up at the celling of his new room. It was converted laundry room under the stairs. It was larger than the closet, as it was next to the down stairs bathroom. To Toki, it was the best room ever. He had his little twin size bed at the part under the stair steps, with a broken amp for a night stand. Pickle's old lava lamp filled the room with a warm, cozy red glow which illuminated various blueprints of submarines and drawings he had taped up. He had several drawings of the band's dream house. It would be this totally metal dragon Viking Ship. He also had a few, clumsily hand drawn pictures of his band mates. There was lots of pictures of Skwisgaar and Pickles, because he liked those two best-plus Skwisgaar was pretty, and Pickles was interesting to watch, so in his own innocent way, he liked drawing those two the most. He wasn't good at drawing people too well, but he wanted pictures of his new family, and they didn't own a camera. When they got rich and famous, Pickles said he would buy Toki a fancy digital camera and show him how to work it.

He sighed, getting out of bed, careful not to hit his head on the stairs when he stood up. Toki carefully crept up stairs, trying not to make the stairs creek. He found Skwisgaar bathed in the flickering white-blue glow of the TV, the blond not really interested in what was on as he flicked through channel idly. He was wrapped in his fluffy white blanket, his hair mused up and fluffy looking.

"_Hey, Little Toki, you can't sleep?_" the blond said, quietly playing his Explorer, slowing down a little bit as he turned his attention to the teen, shivering slightly in his ratty, second hand boxers.

"_Yeah, I am too excited to sleep_.." Toki confessed, hugging his pillow tighter to him, walking closer to the sofa

"_Can I join you?"_

"_Ja, sure.. whatevers.."_

Toki gingerly sat down next to his Swedish counterpart, shivering slightly. Skwisgaar lifted up his fluffy white blanket, and let the little brunet snuggle closer to him under the covers. Toki was soon right next to him, sharing the warmth. He was still shivering, even though he wasn't cold at all.

"_You still cold?"_ Skwisgaar pulled more of the blanket over, covering Toki neck to toe in fluffy whiteness.

"_No… uh.. " _

"_Then why are you shivering like a newly shaved lamp out in the snow? I thought you were from near Lillehammer" _

"_Uh…"_

"_You can tell me , Toki.."_

"_You just make fun of me.."_

Skwisgaar turned to face Toki, studying the boy's face. He definitely looked like he was troubled about something.

"_Well.. the_ goils.."

"_Whats about the girls?"_

"_I don't know what to do with them.."_

"_Like what stuff? Like sex?"_

"_well.. hugging is ok.. I do that a lot already.."_

"_To your band mates, ja."_

"_well.. but.. I uh.."_

Toki turned away, looking at the far corner.

"_You never kiss a girl?"_ Skwisgaar laughed, throwing his head back a little as he chuckled softly. This was too cute. Little Toki was a cute little virgin! It made sense.

"_Toki! That .. that is adorable!" _he was laughing hard now, covering up his mouth so he wouldn't wake the other band

"_Did you ever want to?"_ Skwisgaar now just HAD to know. He scanned those pale blue-grey eyes for his answer. The boy's cheeks were a shade of vermillion in the flickering light of the TV.

"_uh.. not.. really.. I am scared to._." Toki sighed, picking at the furry blanket, still talking to the wall "_My…_ _uh.. father told me to stay away from women.. because kissing leads to sex, and sex leads to babies.. and I don't .."_

Fuck, Toki was like a god damn fucking unicorn! Purer then the god damn newly driven snow. And he was sitting, half naked, under the covers with the biggest slut this side of the Atlantic.( His own mother owning the other half of the world ) His innocence and trust was just too fucking tempting. The Swede was torn.. a stupid American song floating up in his head "_so pure.. so rare.. to win is such an ugly goddess.."_

"_Kissing itself doesn't lead to sex-unless both people want it to. And sex doesn't always lead to having babies.. " _Skiwsgaar explained logically "_So, kissing isn't bad._ "

"_I wouldn't know..I'd like to try it some day.." _Toki's face was on fire now, and he wasn't looking at Skwisgaar at all.

Suddenly, a few things clicked in the blond's mind. Toki Wartooth, the newest member.. might actually have a innocent little crush on the slut of Dethklok. It was just all too much.

"_You scared of me?" _Skwisgaar leaned in, his breath fanning the boy's face

"N-No.."

Skwisgaar briefly touched his lips against the boy's.. it was just a taste of a kiss, really. Toki made a strangled animal sound when the blond pulled back slightly. Skwisgaar placed a hand against the boy's baby smooth cheek. The boy placed a hand up, a signal of surrender if there ever was one. He took it in his own, entwining his finger's with the rhythm guitarist's.

"_See? Kissing not so bad.."_

"_yeah.." _Toki breathed, leaning his forehead against Skwisgaar, his breathing slightly heavy as he trembled more violently.

"_Can.. can we.. try.. it again...?"_

Skwisgaar's eyebrow shot up at the Norwegian's request, and chucked, pulling the other closer to him by tugging those caramel locks.

Skwigaar slid his long fingers into the boy's hair, and kissed Toki again, this time more passionately. Soon, the boy was sighing into his mouth, allowing the blond's tongue to invade the Norseman's. Toki tasted like innocence itself-slightly syrupy-sweet, of gummy bears, dreams and that strawberry soda he liked so much. Skwisgaar felt like his heart was going to give out. His stomach dropped down to his toes and he felt.. so fucking lost. Out of control, cast adrift in some ocean with out a compass or a fucking map loss. He was the master of passion, was the god of guitar and sex, and here he was practically trembling like some love-sick little thirteen-year-old girl because of some gummy-bear flavored kiss.

Skwisgaar slid a hand against Toki's chest, right above the teen's heart, his eyes opening as he felt the pulse slamming against the boy's ribcage like it was going to break free.

Holy shit.

Skwisgaar was also trembling, like some kind of electricity was dancing up and down his spine. It was contagious, that is what it just had to be. He rested his forehead against Toki's again, wrapping a long fingered hand against the nape of the brunet's neck. Toki cupped the blonds face reverently, and kissed him back once more. His eyebrows were lifted up , making him look like a lost puppy, the grey-blue eyes stormy and the depths flickering in the glow of the TV

"_I'm confused_.. " Toki breathed shakily "_Do all kisses feel like this?"_

"_feel like what?" _Skwisgaar whispered into caramel locks, closing his eyes and trying to calm the living hell down. He was not going to have a heart attack over a teenager's kiss. Nope. Not him. Not the Guitar God, the God of Fuck.

"_Like electricity is going down my spine.. like .. uh_.." Toki began, embarrised, as he started pulling off loose strands of hair off the blonds shoulders

"_Like what..?" _Skiwsgaar his hand back up to rest against Toki's wildly beating heart, the brunet mirroring the gesture

"_Like my guts were going to liquefy and my blood boils.. like the universe imploded… do all kisses feel like this?"_

"_Only the really good ones.."_

"_Wowee" _

Toki settled back down, cuddling up slightly closer to the blond, who enveloped them both in the white fluffy faux-fur blanket. Skwisgaar didn't mind when the boy snuggled closer, he merely wrapped a arm around him, and rest his head against the other's. They didn't say anything else, there was no need to. They drifted off to sleep together in the flickering white-blue light of the TV, each slightly entangled in each other. For the first time since he escaped Norway, Toki had happy dreams of white rabbits, powder sugar snow, and elf princes.


	5. Shopping with Pickles-Mini Chapter

HSM Chapter 5

Authors Notes: I do not own Dethklok, or their awesomeness. Nor any brand name food products they maybe using or misusing. Yup. Own nothing. Dethklok belongs to Brenden Small and Tommy Blancha.

Pickles woke up, having to go down the hallway to take a piss. Once he finished, he realized he was parched. Cotton mouth sucked, and only seemed to go away when he drank some of that generic Mt. Dew Murderface always seemed to stock up on. Ugh. It was Pickle's turn to go grocery shopping this week, and he was also supposed to bring along the idiot Norwegian, as the kid just couldn't get enough of going shopping, even if it was just Aldis. He stopped midway through the living room, which opened into the kitchen-and froze.

It couldn't be.

Oh my GAD..

Cuddled up under the polar bar blanket was the two Scandinavians, the blond had his long lanky arm around the smaller brunet, his head buried in the boy's soft hair. Toki was curled into the blond, his arms and legs intertwined in a fierce juxtaposition of innocence and intimacy. The kid's face was peaceful, and for that the Tomahawk native was grateful. The stupid kid needed a good night's sleep.. even if it was next to the Dethklok Swedish Slut. The youngest member was plagued by horrifying nightmares late at night, sometimes waking the entire house up by his crying and screaming.

Pickles remembered the first night the boy spent the night.

_(Some Time Ago..)_

Everything was made up nicely on the sofa, with extra fluffy (well-compared to the flat pancake-like pillows the rest of the band owned) and Toki settled in after awhile. Skwsigaar and Pickles were the last to leave the boy, as he seemed awfully jittery and nervous. The drummer made sure the dragon nightlight was on in the hallway, and the lava lamp was plugged in, because the newest member was terrified of being alone in the dark. Pickles retired to his room, lighting up a extra fat joint as he stared, mesmerized by the intricate designs of his black light posters. He ended up collapsing in a comfy pile on his bed and dozing off when the most horrible screaming woke him up. The drummer nearly shit himself. It sounded like someone was trying to skin a rabbit alive. What the fucking hell was going on? Surely Murderface hadn't decided to take his self-harm up to the next level?

He stumbled into the living room, lit blood red, to find a bawling Norwegian boy clawing at the back of the lead guitarist, staining the other's pristine white tank top with blossoms of red. And the screaming. Dear Gad, it was horrible.

"Skwisgaar, what the fecking hell did you do this time, ya slut?" Pickles cried out, trying to pull the Swede off the boy

'I's didns doos no-ting, he.. ams havingsk ..nighten-mares" Skwisgaar gritted, trying to calm the boy down

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Nathan bellowed at the doorway into the living room "IM TRYING TO SLEEP YOU ASSHOLES!"

"Oh.. fuck.." he said as he realized what was going on. Murderface stood behind him

"Schooo… Skwisgaar triesch too rapesch himsch?" Murderface said calmly "Thatsch shcho gaysch"

"I DIDS NOTHINGSK TOS TOKIS! HES FREAKSK OUTS!" Skwisgaar cried, startling the Norwegian, who seemed to finally snap out of it, and get into a fit of pure sobbing, hiccupping as he cried in Norwegian, curled against the blond's torso.

Skwigaar merely grabbed the boy by the wrists, and the Nord realized that he had scratched and bloodied his new band mate and superior. He started in a hysterical fit, saying some phrase over and over again, clutching at the white tank top like he was aiming to rip those tiny Swedish nipples right off.

Pickles was freaked out as was the rest of the band when Skwisgaar merely held the kid, whispering whatever in Swedish back. That was totally unlike Blondie. He had helped the kid back into shower to calm down with a bubble bath (truth be told, one of the regulars of Nathan's brought over some girly stuff).

Nathan sat down on the sofa, not caring if it was all made up like a bed. He had his head in his hands.

"Fuck that was fucking brutal.. "

A shaken Skwisgaar emerged from the bathroom, looking pale and slightly sick. Random soft hiccupping sobs were still coming from the other side of the door.

"Why was the kid screaming like that? It was fucking horrible!" Nathan asked

Pickles, who had gotten out the last of his fruity wine coolers , offered Blondie one as he sat down.

"He.. has bads nighten-mares.. ja.. bad, bad nighten-mares" Blondie swallowed, looking like he was trying not to throw up.

"Schoos.. nightmares happen all the timesh. No reason to be a puschie about it"

"Joos donsk knows.. Moidarfaces.. Is does. His parents.. dey.. evil bask-tards.. okays?" Skwisgaar hissed

"Woah.. Blondie.. Yer getting' a wee bit worked up, doncha think?"

"Dey whips him likes a dogs, Pickle! Hes scareds tos deaths of dem.. Joos didn'ts sees his backs.. its whats looks liked lawn mower whats ams rans over its."

"Jesus" Nathan muttered darkly

It was decided then and there that they would protect Toki.

(Back to Present Day)

Pickles suddenly felt very old, and very alone. It had been _years _, in fact, nearly a decade, since he felt that kind of intimacy-not sex, just a cuddly nap. God, that was back before Snakes N Barrels got big. His heart felt a dull, stinging sensation as he saw how protectively the blond was holding the younger boy. He wished he had someone, anyone, that would protect and care for him that way. It would be so nice, just napping like that.

But, he had to wake the Norwegian up so they could do a grocery run before the others woke up. He put a hand on the frightenly boney shoulders, and gently shook them.

Toki made a small, mewing noise, and only curled further into the lead guitarist's embrace. Aw, that was kind of cute, Pickles thought, poking a baby-soft cheek, teasing the boy.

Toki mewed again, nuzzling his cheek further into the blond's neck.

Pickle's tried pulling at the caramel locks. Mew. Nuzzle.

"Toki.."

"Toki"

"TOKI… Duncan Hills is giving away free donuts.. we got to hurry or they won't have any Brownie Batter Heart Surprise donuts left"

"Whats?... nei… "

"Come on man, I will buy you as many Duncan Hills donuts as you can eat.. but we got to get up." Pickles gratted, tugging harder at a lock as the brunet tried to slap it away.

The blond woke up , cracking open a sapphire blue eye to glare at the redhead.

"ughs.. uh?" Skwisgaar mumbled as he tried pulling away from the brunet, who only slid down further along the blond's naked torso

"You guys looked like you had sum fun there.." Pickles stated, arching a pierced eyebrow

"No.. littles baby dildos couldns't sleeps.. we watchs de tvs.. fells alseepsk" Skwisgaar gritted, pulling the brunet off him

Toki finally woke up, stretching with a cute yawn, smiling widely at Skwisgaar before grinning sheepishly at Pickles.

"C'mon.. we gats ta get up and get some groceries.. we are outta dat coffee Nathan drinks, and you know what happens" Pickles sighed "Jus.. jus' git dressed, alright?"

A few minutes later, Pickles came back, dressed in some baggy green cargo pants, and black tee shirt with the sleeves ripped off, checkered Vans on his feet. His dreadlocks were awefully fuzzy, he really needed to get them done again at the head shop. He found a fully dressed Skwisgaar wearing his regular combination of white-on-white-on-white and Toki wearing various cast-offs, including a cat baseball hat, the drummer's old kahki cargo shorts, and Skwisgaar's blue t-shirt. The kid really did look like a kid brother. Pickles grinned as he picked up his car keys from the bowl by the front door. (It was Toki's idea, since everyone lost their keys when they were drunk)

Pickles sighed again as Toki skipped down the steps to his beat up crap car- a dark green Honda 1990 something or other. ". Despite what everyone thought of him, the yooper boy could handle money and keep everyone afloat, using his own personal funds for emergencies. He didn't care about the make and model of his little Green Machine, got him where he needed to go. The drummer could have gotten a nicer car with all the money he still made of Snakes N Barrel's royalties, but they all went into keeping Mordhaus up and running- Nathan's and Murderface's jobs barely paid the electricity, and well.. the two Scandivans couldn't hold down a job, though he knew the blond was doing tricks for old ladies and MILFS once and awhile for money. The newest member wanted to have a part time job so he could " buys presents fors every-bodies and gets nices foods

Skwisgaar climbed into the front seat, having to push the chair back all the way to accommodate his nearly seven foot tall frame, most of which seemed to be those damn long legs of his. Toki was happily in the back seat behind Pickles. Piercings glinting in the rising sun, Pickles drove off to the band's favorite "food library", Aldis, which oddly cheered up the Scandinavians because there was various branches of the store in parts of Europe (though, none in Norway or Sweden). Toki happily plunked in a quarter to get out a cart and bolted into the store, the older members following warily behind him.

"Hey.. now.. all we got this week is.. uh.. five, ten, ok.. hmm…twenty, thirty.. damn it Murderface.. uh….fifty dollars. So, fifty dollars for a week of food." Pickles said as he counted his money. Murderface, once again, didn't chip in his part of the groceries. Nathan and Pickles always forked over extra to cover Skwisgaar and now, Toki, but the bassist would rarely chip in. Fine, fuck him. He gets seven packets of ramen noodles to last him a week.

Toki eyed the first displays within the store, grabbing at boxes and pointing excitedly while Skwisgaar grumbled "dad what ams makes joos fats, Toki" "No, that costs too muchs, puts aways" "Yes, dildos, the bears on box are cute… no, yous can'ts hav"

Pickled wondered if shopping with a wife and kid would be like this. It might even be nice, but it was a little too late for that kind of thinking now. "DON"T TOUCH THAT'S TOKIS" "Stopsk puttingsk things in baskets! I sees joo does this!" Never mind that shit, if he could get annoyed at his band mates, then no…

Pickles grimly steered the two bickering Scandinavians towards the aslies that had actual FOOD products. He grabbed a gallon of whole milk (he didn't like the stuff, but it said it had Vitamin D on the label-so what the hell), threw two packs of the cheapest margarine in as well, and some of this cheap coffee creamer. Across the way was this German-style coffee that Nathan liked. It wasn't as good as Duncan Hills Coffee, but nothing was close to the blackest black of coffee the lead singer liked. Pickles felt privately that he should just burn the fuck out of some coffee beans with a flamethrower before brewing it-that coffee of his just tasted BURNT. Pickles liked his creamy and sweet as he could make it while still being coffee-which reminded him he was out of his brand of cheap as shit Irish Cream. He grabbed a bottle, mentally adding up the prices of things.

Toki grabbed at a box of mac n' cheese- the stuff just seemed to amaze the kid to no end that you could get milk, margarine and this cheese powder to make food. Processed American food seemed to be exciting in some way, all the bright food coloring, all the extra sugars and fats, and all sorts of things that apparently were banned in the (more civilized) European countries. Lunchables in particular were a obsession for the Norwegian, who practically jazzed in his pants when he realized you could have a entire meal out of cheese, processed beyond human recognition lunch meat, and some juice drink with more syllables then actual natural ingredients. Until, he found the Lunchables that had desert. Ho-boy… the kid lost his marbles.. He was a sugar freak. Gummy bears, snack cakes, anything sugary sweet, the kid enjoyed it with gusto. He had a fetish for strawberry soda, in particular.

Pickles couldn't help but grin a bit at how freaking excited everything made the kid. Skwisgaar, too seemed to be less of a dick with Toki around. Which was an improvement.

A pound of hamburger meat in a red tube flopped in on top of the pathetically small pile. They could stretch that… maybe? They got to the ramen section, and Pickles picked up four crates of them-two chicken, two beef.

"Ughs.. that's nots foods.." Skwisgaar frowned, stuffing his hands into his pants and eyeing a GMILF that was picking up a can of dog food. He winked at her, before walking over to talk to the old lady.

"Pickle?"

"Ya, kid?"

"whys Skwisgaar talk to dat olds ladies?"

"I dunno-he likes old grannies"

"Oh.. like nursings homes helpers?"

"No, he likes to fuck them. Its gross"

"Fuck..?" Toki breathed, looking from Pickles to the blond man hitting on a granny half his height (well, not really, but she was still short as hell)

Pickles turned away, looking for something cheap and easy to fix, but not before he caught the distressed look on the Norwegian's face, as he held a fisted hand against the center of his chest.

Ho-boy…

"Don't you worry a'bot it.." Pickles said, grabbing at a box of "cosmic brownies!" snack cakes "Here you go, you can have these after you are done with your chores and if you practice with Skwisgaar for an hour."

"wowee, thanks, Pickle." The teen mumbled, not looking at him, but at the back of the blonds head

"C'mon.. leave 'em alone.. lets pick something nice for dinner" Pickles tugged at the blue shirt sleeve, pulling the love-sick teen away from Swedish granny-lust.

Pickles pulled out an extra twenty from his little dwindling pile of savings. God, he hoped more royalties were coming in soon. He was starting to get way too broke for his comfort. Usually, he was fine if they just had money for booze. He could drink all his calories, and Nathan got a free meal at the club he was at any time he worked. Murderface.. well, he was known for grabbing slightly iffy shit outta the dumpster. He was a weirdo. The Norwegian teen was anorexic looking, as was the Swede. They needed slightly more substance.

Pickles led Toki over to the meat section, and picked out a relatively inexpensive pot roast, and then drug the teen over to pick out a five pound bag of potatos and some baby carrots.

"why dey called "baby" carrots.. are they really babies?"

"No.. they just tiny carrots or whatever."

Toki shifted a bit on his feet, fidgeting with his pockets and kept glancing a few aslies over , only to see the blond walk away with the granny. His eyes got wide, and he unconsciously clutched his fist against his heart again

"Pickle… I don.. feels so goodsly.."

"whats wrong kid?"

"I hurts.."

By the expression on those pale, huge blue eyes,.. yeah. Hurt summed it up perfectly. Poor little fucker.

"Oh.. boy" Pickles sighed over a yellow onion, setting it down carefully

"Huh.. uhh… HHHuNNNNhhh!…" a certain Swedish baritone could be heard coming from the back room, a noise that Pickles knew that meant there was probably copious amounts of Swedish DNA now coating the various packaging of the products in the back room.

The shoppers in the store stopped what they were doing to stare at the store's back corner as a tall, lanky blond emergered with a little old lady in a state of disarray.

Skwisgaar waved the old lady off with a thin-lipped smile, and sauntered back to the dreadlocked redhead's cart. His hair was slightly mused, and he reeked of sex. Disgusting.

"Ja.. joos haves good times shoppings.?" Skwisgaar said casually, running a hand appreciatively over a few items in the cart.

"JA! WE AMS HAVINGKS FUNS.." Toki shouted, punching Skwisgaar in the upper arm "Den joos ruins its with … with… grannies!"

"Whys … joos jealous , Little Tokis?" The Swede smirked

"Ok, break it up now ladies.. lets jus' get the fuck outta here. People are starin'" Pickles held his head down, ignoring the blanent stares of the shoppers as they gapped.

It was deathly quiet when the reached the checkout, the cashier girl not even saying a word, but starying in a mixture torn between awe and disgust at Skwisgaar. Toki was pouting, and Pickles was annoyed when he found out he needed to pay for some bags to haul all their shit home.

No one said a word the ride home, the only sound was occasional sighs and sniffles.


	6. Hoppy's Happy Place -mini chapter

HSM Chapter 6

Authors Note: I do not own Dethklok, I own nothing. Yay. Go me. Sorry about the chapters being a little shorter then normal. I will try to get them back up in length. Hoppy's Happy Place is my own creation, named after a 3 legged cat I once took care of.. its based roughly off of Toki's little imaginary world that appears in the show. I figured he would like a place like that.

A shout out to everyone: I love you, thank you for your reviews. And a special thank you to ranma07 for sticking with me!

The meeting was boring. Boring on top of boring served on a platter of boring. It was boring topped with boring sauce. Nathan forgot how much fucking paperwork went into redoing all these contracts and getting a new band member. Jesus Christ ridding a rabid T-Rex, this sucked.

This new rhythm will hopefully work out better then that crazy fucker Magnus. Somewhere , though, Nathan knew all that. The Norwegian was a good kid, and the lead singer was secretly pleased that someone was getting the housecleaning down around Mordhaus. Plus, the kid played nearly as well as Skwisgaar, which was saying something, and he didn't seem to care if he didn't get creative input with songs, just did what he was told, with a big goofy smile on his face. It was nice, a kid brother-slash-housemaid-slash-bad ass guitarist. _If only he had a tail and horns, then he would be like the perfect pet, or something. That would be cool. _Nathan thought, smirking a bit.

The new manger guy, Charles of-something, Ofdenson, yeah.. he seemed to have his shit together. They had let the old one, Chuck Berg, go. Chuck just wasn't into it anymore, not since his slut of a wife left him for some rapper-slash-DJ that Chuck was trying to manage. His heart just wasn't into it , and he was getting over the hill, out of touch with the music scene. Dethklok needed someone with brains and balls, someone that would get their shit out there to the regular jackoff masses. And Charles was the sonofabitch to make it happen.

So, Nathan grumbled as both Roy Cornickleson and Ofdenson rambled on about contracts, profit sharring, albums, merchandise, albums, music videos, and blah blah.

Will this ever end? Dear fucking Black Sabbath, this was grueling. Nathan picked at his chipped black finger nail paint as he tried not to pass out on the pile of paperwork that was shoved in front of him.

Roy seemed like a nice enough guy-even though Nathan punched his distended-rectal-pubic-hair of a son in the face. He even worked with Ofdenson to get Toki and Skwisgaar permanent VISAS, now that they were gainfully employed through Dethklok.

Toki Wartooth, though turned out to be a bit of a problem. He wasn't properly registered with the proper authorities when he was born, and he had no tax information, no social security or ID's on him, nor a birth certificate, nothing. And, to make matters worse, he was a minor. A babe of tender 16, and he needed a proper legal guardian over him. Something like that. Nathan wasn't exactly sure, it was all spoken in that weird technical legal jargon that made no fucking sense what so ever. If he had proper documentation, he could always apply to be a emancipated youth, but as it was..plus, Ofdenson needed to get in contact with the Wartooth family.

THAT threw the blond guitarist into a full-fledged Bitch Drag Queen from Hell hissy fit. Dear Dita Von Tessa's tits, he needed to use the Swede's screams as background vocals sometime. The lanky Swedish bitch could _scream_ in the most brutal, nails-against-walls way. It was hilarious. Nathan smirked under his ebony curtain of hair as his lead guitarist was on a tirade. Oh my god, Nathan wasn't sure straight (or whatever the fuck Skwisgaar was, anyways) men could peacock around quite like that. Pickles joined in, too. Fucking Ozzy's balls.

"joos cant's sends hims backs!"

"kids rilly good.. 'e cooks, an' cleans"

"Hesh evensh doesh the laundry! Sheesh!" Murderface even chimed in

"de beats hims what likes deads horses"

"kid has nightmares about.."

"Theys starved-ed hims toos.. dat wh.."

"I means, he doesn't "

"I wonts lets yous sends hims backs."

It was becoming a jumbled mess. For a second, Nathan felt a little bad for their new manager, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking like he was about to get the world's biggest migraine.

In the end it was concluded that, no, they wouldn't contact those Norwegian bastards for any reason. After a few hours more of paperwork, and phone calls to Norway, Toki Wartooth was theirs, free and clear. For the next two years, Charles would be in charge of Toki's accounts and would act as guardian until the teen turned 18.

If Toki wanted to get it touch with them, that was his own business.

But Toki was now his business- Dethklok's business. It was a mess. They still had no idea who in the hell the Norwegian teenager got in to the United States with no ID, no documentation, no money. That was a mystery. The kid didn't really say, and Skwisgaar wasn't forthcoming, but Nathan didn't really care that much. The kid was here, and he was now a part of the Klok.

Charles Ofdenson was now the CFO of Dethklok, and they were now his responsibility to get them into the limelight.

"So.. how about we.. ah. Celebrate. My treat" Charles stated, getting various cries of

"PIZZA!"

"Beefs steaks!"

"CHINESE FOOD!"

"HOOTERSCH!"

Charles turned to the youngest member, who was oddly quiet. "Uh.. Toki, where did you..ah.. want to go?"

Toki bit his lower lip as everyone turned to stare at him. "Uh.. I wants.. to gos to Hoppy's Happy Places… it looks real cools"

He looked at his shoes.

"That's dildos, Little Toki.. its what's ams kiddies goes too.. Pffftt"

"I.. nevers beens to party places..not evens ons mine bird-day.. what with games and de pizzaas.. Plus, wes cell-ey-braids nows, ja? Cell-ey-braid-tons means party.. joo can'snt hav party withouts balloons, and games.. and rides.. and cake!" Toki gestured everything, moving his hands in a grand scale "Plus.. Hoppy's Happy Place has cats.. cats ams metals"

"Hows joo knows dis?"

"Tee-Vees. Its commerk-shouls, afters de magic ponies shows."

**So , a little while later**

The most brutal band in the history of the world found itself at Hoppy's Happy Place, crammed awkwardly in a periwinkle booth with a neon-pink cat shaped table. Their eyes were watering. It was.. too.. damn.. bright. Their retinas were starting to bleed. Every masculine fiber of their bodies was screaming in protest. They felt the sudden need to take in as much alcohol as humanly possible to soften the blow. Piped in, child-friendly pop music was killing the band's testicles, and Nathan was debating scooping his brains out with a large slotted spoon. God, damn.. this was painful. But one look at the Norwegian's face made it all worth it. The kid looked like he was going to shit unicorns and piss rainbows.

Nathan tried looking around-but that was a big mistake. He would give anything to be able to crawl into a nice dark closet to escape this place. The walls were a violent shade of aqua, the molding around the doors were a equally nauseous shade of lime green. All the doors and fixtures were all in cat shapes. Violet polka dots of various sizes dotted the walls, and the floor was vivid navy blue with lime green squiggles. It was like someone ate a bunch of fucking crayons then had a severe, crippling case of diarrhea all over the walls.

Charles handed over a giant handful of cat-faced gold coins to Toki, who pelted off to the nearest Dance Dance Madness machine, and was starting to stomp arrows with vengeance. Skwisgaar watched the boy wistfully as he danced in perfect rhythm with the song, the boy unconsciously moving his arms along to the music. The music that was blaring was some chirpy, high pitched Japanese techno that sounded like castrated chipmunks were singing it while high on acid.

"Hes such a dildos" Skwisgaar snorted, leaning back and tossing his hair. He flashed a smile at a cat-eared waitress, who giggled.

"Uhh.. this is so fucking not metal at all.. I mean.. fuck" the lead grumbled until he noticed Zombie Masacure Blood Bath III. He lumbered off, his pockets jingling guiltily. "Brutal"

"Thisch is sho fuckingsh gaysh. I means, whys comes heresh because fucking Toki wantsch kids shit. I wanted to see schome schweet titsch! " Murderface glared around the game room part, until he noticed _Civil War-Fight For Freedom 3. _ "Heysch.. thesh gots a civil war gamesch.." to this Charles merely handed over a small stack

"Skwisgaar! Skwisgaar! They has Guitar Gods FIVE! The newest! Wes needs to plays.." Toki dragged the blond off by his tank top's collar before the taller man could protest much more

"Gad.. I need a beer" Pickles moaned, his pointed chin resting on the table, his dreads sprawling out everywhere on the table, making him look like a octopus out of water. It was rather pathetic. His buzz from earlier was

Charles wandered off, bringing back five ice cold beers, setting two in front of the drummer with a knowing smirk, opening a can of soda for himself.

"Cheers, eh?"

'The band seems to be getting along better" Charles observed, watching as the two guitarists were dueling on the new game in the far left corner.

Nathan wasn't too far off on his zombie game, a wicked, child-scarring grin on his face. Several small girls dressed up like pink fluffy cupcakes started crying when Nathan won the high score and actually smiled, his outrageously pointed canines looking rather inhuman. Then he started laughing, causing parents to grab their children and rush them in the opposite direction before their children could piss their pants. Tickets gushed out in a stream of aqua, and Nathan scooped up the pile, handing it wordlessly over to Toki, who was watching the Swede attempt the Dance Dance Madness game.

"Yeah, well, now that the douchebag Magnus is out.." Pickles took a healthy swallow of his beet before continuing "Magnus was lead for a long time, but then we switched Skwis out for Magnus, with 'em bein' da lead, but you know how the ol' Hammer gets.. got really bitter. I mean, da guy was batshit crazy.. he fuckin' stabbed Nathan in the back.. who fucking DOES that? Got what he had coming to him… Nathan punched him so hard.. word is, the fucker's blind in dat eye.. serves him right..Toki is much better than a handful of Magnus's , hell, even if da kid like sucked balls at guitar, he'd be better than Magnus on his best day, ya no? Plus, kids rilly nice,"

Charles carefully placed the band's orders for pizza, making sure to double the amount that would normally feed a small army. From the looks of it, his new band was half-starved, which wasn't surprising as they were living on a very limited budget. He ordered three pitchers of beer, and a pitcher of Root Beer for him and Toki to share.

As soon as the cat-eared waitress brought out the food, the band descended upon it like a pack of rapid, starved hyenas. Murderface had taken two slices of pizza, and stacked one on top of the other. It was disgusting. Charles tried not to look too much at his new band as they ate, focusing instead on neatly polishing up his two well-dabbed slices of cheese pizza. Toki was shoveling food in his mouth as fast as he could, like any moment someone would take it away from him. Pickles, who was keeping an eye out for the idiotic newbie, doubted that the kid was even chewing his damn food.

"Woah… ya gotta slow down.. yer gonna hock it back up like that if ya keep eating.."Pickles reminded, feeling like the den mother of these dumb fucks.

Toki, half-starved as he was, tried choking down four slices before suddenly turning slightly green, running off to the cat-shaped restroom door. Skwisgaar, after a few seconds waging what must have been an intense internal battle, set his napkin down and trailed after the boy.

The table exchanged glances at each other, as Pickles sighed into his beer, before getting up as well.

"DOOD! You ok thar?" Pickles rapped on the bathroom door, wincing as he heard violent puking, and a pissed off slew of something that must have been swearing.

"Gad.. yer like a bulimic cat.. eat too much, ya barf. " Pickled rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Rilly, doncha no better?"

Toki emerged, looking a bit paler, and shaky, with a green-tinged Swede. He sat back down and sipped at his root beer , looking down guiltily at the table. He muttered something in his mother tongue, to which Skwisgaar replied something in his. He didn't touch any more pizza that night, and even turned down Charle's offer to buy him dessert. He quietly excused himself after awhile to play some less-active video games.

Everyone was drinking heartily and Pickles was starting to come back to life as the alchohal swam in his system. No one really noticed Toki's absence for awhile until Skwisgaar got a bit worried, and wandered off.

He found Toki carrying a small pile of random prizes he won at playing Guitar God Five, a slight smile on his thin lips. "Is gots presents fors everyones"

"Pickle.. here.. fours yous" Toki said, looking down, hair in his face a bit as he flushed a bright red. He handed over a small red octopus key chain that had a bottle opener attached to it.

"T'anks, kid.."

"Um.. Na'tans.. heres." Toki placed a small demonic looking black cat figurine in front of the lead singer , who grunted his appreciation.

"Um.. ja.. Moidar-faces..sorries is nots reals" with that Toki handed over a really crappy looking foam sword, but Murderface looked happy none-the-less. No one ever thought of the bass player or gave him presents willingly. It was nice, even if it was a 80's fantasy-style foam sword.

"ah.. um..Here" he shoved a shark keychain at Charles, as well as a small handful of various fake tattoos and candy, and a tiny plastic slinky "Sorries..dey don't have much cools things.." he mumbled "buts I wants tos t'anks joos for de foods and beingsk new boss-mans."

Charles' face was unreadable, but he was touched, even if it was just a handful of stupid shit from the prize booth. And the shark key chain sort of did look like him in his sharply pressed grey suit.

"Whats abouts mes, Little Tokis?"

"Uh.. " he looked down at his shoes, his face now redder then Pickles' dreadlocks.

"Pfft.. fines thens"

"Here"

Toki pulled the last item from behind his back-a white cat plushie that had dark blue eyes. It had huge blue bow around its neck. Pickles started giggling into his beer.. Toki's face was still flaming hot, and he tried to look everywhere but at the blond as he picked up the white cat toy, and held it. He caught the small brunet flicking his polar blue eyes about, trying to stealthily sneak a glance at Skwisgaar. It was too fucking adorable-gawd, the kid must have it bad. Pickles played with his new octopus keychain, seeing the resemblance a little, in the way the color was nearly spot-on with the color of his fiery dreads.

"_Thanks..I guess?"_

Finally, Charles decided it was time to drive his new band home. After everyone gave him various directions (none of which was too accurate) and he just used his GPS. Much easier. If only the ride home was that easy. Nathan got shotgun in the company van, leaving everyone to fend for themselves. Skwisgaar and Toki ended up in the way back of the van, with Murderface and Pickles stretching out in the two separate bucket seats.

"_Heys, Tokis.. " _Skwisgaar whispered, his mouth nearly in the smaller brunets hair

"_Ja?"_

Skwisgaar shifted slightly, grabbing a small neon pink bag that he had been carrying around earlier. He reached in and pulled out a teddy bear that had a little demon tail, and little demon horns. It was cute and creepy at the same time.

"_I thought you might like it, since you're a little baby and all." _He smirked, but it lacked any malice as he looked at the boy in the flickering traffic lights.

"_Is this really for me_?" Toki whispered, his eyes huge and shimmering. He hugged his brand-new Deddy Bear (he thought that was a real cool name for it right then and there)

"_No, dildos.. I bought it for the Pope_." A long arm snaked around Toki's shoulders and pulled him close. It the darkness of the van, and with the drunken chattering of the others, the Scandinavians were alone in the dark. Toki rested his head against the blond, who rested his on top of the boy's hair, breathing in the scent of fruity, girly shampoo the boy was still using. It smelled nice.

"_Thank you Skwisgaar.."_

"_Don't mention it. Seriously. You will ruin my reputation." _he whispered against the caramel locks, his heart pounding slightly as he looked out the window to take in the city lights that were flickering past. Every so often, in the reflection of the window, he could make out Toki's outline, and tightened his grip around him just a little bit more.

He couldn't explain how he felt right then and there, but he also didn't feel the need to. And that was all right with him. For now.


	7. Berry Scented Desire-interlude

Authors Note: I do not own Dethklok. Nope. Not a single thing of Dethklok, unless you count their CD's.. and DVDS. Even then, they are not my idea. Warning: Lemon chiffon cake ahead.

Skwisgaar just couldn't get _enough_ of the little Norwegian. The little idiot kept creeping into his normally sane thoughts. Drinking coffee? _Toki_. Trying to shower? Stupid dildos Norwegian's smiling face was grinning at him from behind the Swede's closed eyelids. Trying to nap during the day to get over a migraine? Stupid, berry-scented teenager was bouncing around like a crackhead on a pogo stick. Boing. Boing.

Did it leave him alone so he could eat in peace? Hell no. Trying to gag down ramen? His poor mind was on something else that was warm, and slightly salty that would taste so good in his mouth.

Thoughts of gummy-bear flavored kisses bubbled back up and the Swede groaned softly. He bit his lip, trying to make his lips forget the feeling of trembling virginal lips yielding to his. He still felt that tingling of electricity between them. Every hair stood on end, and he felt like his skin was stretched too tightly over his bones.

He still felt the warmth when he reached an arm around the boy, pulling him close. He had no idea why he did that. He was normally so aloof, but the Nord brought out something clingy in him. He wanted to just keep the boy as close as humanly possible to him, and felt a sense of loss when the dildo wasn't around. It was a weird feeling-like missing a limb or something.

God damn it.

It was maddening.

It was just there-a giant pink elephant in the room, but he tried to ignore it when the others were around.

As if one could ignore the fucking presence of the sun.

The whole fucking universe revolved around the dildos Norwegian.

And the teen had no fucking clue.

He just smiled like he always did, like he was trying to split open his face. He was just so happy all the time. It didn't matter what the stupid moron was doing. Taking out Murderface's rotting garbage in his filthy bedroom? Shit-eating grin. Washing Pickle's vomit-encrusted sleeveless shirts in the bathtub? Bliss. Tagging along with a grumpy Nathan when he went to pay the fuck-face landlord? Total joy. Even when he was just doing dishes, he beamed at the blond like he just won a billion dollars and was given the world's best blow job at the same time.

Even mowing the yard in the morning made the little retard happy. He was just glad to be outside, feeling the sun on his face and his exposed back. He finally was ok going shirtless, though it was only around Skwisgaar, and maybe perhaps Pickles. He was still a little shy of Nathan and Murderface, but that was because Nathan was intimidating as hell, and Murderface was so severely homophobic that he declared being shirtless to be "gaysh"

Gods.. what was the bastard doing to him?

Skwisgaar stood at his bedroom window, watching Toki going about various yard work around Mordhaus. He found a old rusty push mower in the corner of the garage, and after a brief demonstration from the drummer, took it upon himself to mow down the knee-high weeds . His scared back glistened with sweat, making his webbing of scars stand out more against the tan the brunet was starting to get. His hair was damp, sticking to his face and Skwisgaar thought the look somehow suited him.. how would the teen look, sweating and panting like that underneath him? He would look so good, love-slickened, panting against the Swede's furry bed, innocent and intimate at the same time.

He would take it slow-nibbling the younger one's delicate shell of an ear until the little Nord gasped. Shirts and clothes would come undone, magically, and Skwisgaar would tease those cute, tiny little nipples, nipples that would look too perfect pierced with tiny little silver hoops, matching the Swede's own. He would gently pull on those tiny little hoops and bite his long neck, leaving his mark. He could do without the various other piercings, though.. The Swede himself had many-and didn't want his little Nord too pierced up. He was too innocent to be blemished in such away The only thing else he wanted to pierce the brunet with would be him..

_Mine_

It didn't make sense anymore-but Skwisgaar just couldn't take much more tension. He had to rub one out. How long has it been since he had to do that?

Grabbing the box of generic Klenex, he went to work, pulling down his white skinny jeans just enough to free himself, pumping away as he imagined the brunet straddling his slender hips, impaling himself on the blond's straining member. The other hand found its way into his mouth-two fingers almost gagging him. It felt good, but not as good as it would be to have the Nord's tongue tangling with his playfully. He bucked his hips roughly, going insane with desire.

He nearly passed out when he came, seeing gold stars and spilling all over himself. He came so hard, it actually _hurt._ His balls were actually **sore**, it felt like he tried to completely empty himself.

He was actually shaking when he cleaned himself up before deciding to head to the shower-he was too sticky to pull his tank top back on. He leaned against the shower wall, trying to catch his breath.

Odin, what the hell was wrong with him?

He was losing his mind over a berry-scented teenager.


	8. A Day With Toki

Author's Note! I do not own this shit. Do not own Dethklok.

Toki woke up at his usual time of seven thirty in the morning feeling ready to get on with the day. After nearly a lifetime of being kicked or having ice water thrown on him to wake up at four in the morning, sleeping in till 7:30 felt wonderful. He was usually energetic in the morning, and today he was antsy to get his chores done so the rest of the afternoon could be spent loafing about with Skwisgaar, learning new rythim parts of the song Nathan had just written. He was looking forward to it, plus Pickles said he could eat as many cosmic brownies he wanted as long as he did his chores and practiced with Skwisgaar for at least an hour.

The little Norwegian tip-toed upstairs, clutching his new Deddy Bear. He loved Skwisgaar's gift, and held it tight against his thin chest.

He didn't know Skwisgaar could be so kind-he seemed like a totally different person when they were alone together. His Skwisgaar was funny, and kind, and remarkably charming. When the others were around, Skwisgaar quickly became a bit of a dick, but maybe it was just to show that he was as "brutal" as the rest. But, even when he called him things like "dildo" and "fucks-face" and called him a cry baby, Toki could sense that he was just teasing, the words lacking real malice behind it.

Toki wasn't sure-but he did like the way the tall blond sat close to him on the couch, or let him sit on the floor between his knees, absentmindedly petting his hair when the others weren't in the same room.

Toki thought of how close the lead guitarist held him in the van, surrounding him in his warmth. Skwisgaar smelled of manly musk, and like some kind of outdoorsy alpine spice. It was intoxicating and relaxing at the same time

He set Deddy down on the clean part of the kitchen countertop, and began making some coffee. Soon, the rich aroma was filling the room and he was getting started on dishes that were left in the sink. Nathan and Murderface usually scrounged around for something to snack on before they went to bed, often times leaving the newest member with a huge mess. Murderface's dishes were usually the worse, as he often made up a Hamburger Time meal, which often dirtied the only skillet in Mordhaus, as well as a few plates. The meat-and-cheesy noodle concoction usually cemented to the pan, and had to soak. It was awful as often smelled horrible after it sat around for most of the night. Toki didn't really want to know where the hamburger came from that Murderface would cook up, nor, as starved as he was, he didn't even want to try it. It had a foul stench that turned his stomach.

Thankfully, they still had leftover pizzas from Hoppy's Happy Place, so the only thing left was scrapping the congealed cheese off the stack of plates and into the trash. Toki made a note to himself to take out the garbage again, as well as return the newest pile of cans. He found a spare garbage can awhile back, and set it up so Pickles could have somewhere to chuck all those cans of beer and bottles of booze he went through. Sometimes, though, he missed the damn trash can and Toki had to round up cans from the living room and kitchen floor.

Toki's mind wandered as he scrubbed up the newest stack of dishes in the sink. Last night had been really nice. Perhaps they could do that again? He liked the cuddling an awful lot, he almost craved the loving touches the blond lavished upon him. No one had ever touched the Norwegian without hurting him, or leaving a mark on his skin.

Toki grabbed a slice of pepperoni pizza from one of the many cardboard boxes stuffed in the bare fridge, and flopped in unceremoniously on a plate before heating it up in Murderface's dilapidated microwave. He was careful to microwave it at ten second intervals. His first week, he had started a fire in the microwave when he tried to heat up a sandwhich, cooking it for seven minutes straight. He was so embarrassed. He didn't know. He figured, just press some buttons, bam!, food was ready. He didn't know how to work many of the electronics in Mordhaus, and it was usually trial and error for the Norwegian teen. Finally, he got Pickles show him how to properly use it to reheat things, the drummer being surprisingly helpful in teaching Toki the basics of American appliances.

Toki grabbed himself a small glass of the precious milk, and sat down carefully on the sofa before turning the TV on to the lowest volume. He quickly found the local station that played children's cartoons. With cable being digital, it made channels that came through the old box TV few and far between. Only channels they got where home shopping , weather, some weird Spanish-language channel, and public television, that featured hilariously outdated children's cartoons, and old retro documentaries from the 70's to 90's. Toki didn't care. He finally had a television he could watch, and it was the best thing ever.

He watched as he nibbled his way happily through his slice of pizza, throwing back the glass of milk to wash it down. Even leftovers tasted like pure heaven- they had been eating nothing but ramen and baked potatoes lately. Tonight, though, he was going to have Nathan help him make up the small pot roast Pickle bought the other day. He was excited to finally have some actual protein that wasn't from eggs or cheap American-style cheese. If you could call it cheese. He finally understood why nearly every country banned the "American—style" cheese, it was fucking aweful! It was so processed, and so full of dyes, it might as well be adding a slice of petroleum jelly to his sandwhiches. But, Pickles explained that it had lots of calcium, and that along with the milk, Toki was supposed to eat and drink lots of dairy products, as he was the youngest. It had something to do with him still growing-not like he thought he would get much bigger then the drummer or bassist.

The episode ended, and he cleaned up his dishes before taking out the garbage.

By now, he could hear Pickle's stirring in his bedroom down the hall way. A few cans were kicked out of the redhead's way by the sound of it.

_Great. More to clean up. Couldn't Pickle just use the can-basket? Is that really that hard?_

"Eh, thar, Toki.. " Pickles mumbled, scratching his bare chest as he stumbled into the kitchen.

"Morn-ings" he chirped back, grabbing Pickles' Snakes N Barrels coffee mug, filling it up half way with the blacker- then- Nathan's -hair coffee, then filling it up the rest of the way with milk and sugar. He added a splash of Irish crème to the top, knowing the drummer like it that way. Maybe it was an Irish thing, but Pickles just loved the stuff first thing in the morning. He handed it to the drummer, who took an appreciative swig.

"Gawd.. ya know how ta make coffee, kid.." Pickles closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

"Tanks.."

Pickles sat down on the couch, watching the TV with blurry eyes . His red dreadlocks were splayed everywhere against the tacky sofa, and his arms were akimbo. Sometimes, Toki wondered if Pickles even had bones, the drummer just sprawled everywhere, and his movments were often a blurred mess of limbs and dreads.

"Gawds.. I don wanna go in ter 'ork. I jus' wanna sleep IN.. " Pickles whined slightly, feeling already exhausted and miserable like a toddler at naptime. "I mean. Feckin' 'ell.. I'm feck'n Pickles da Drummer.. and.. Ah'm in dis shithole, workin' at a feck'n' gas station. Feck.. maybes my dad was right.. feck'n 'ell. "

"Pickle? Joos oks?" Toki turned to face the other man, who seemed to crumple slightly.

Pickles looked so miserable, and _sober_. Lines etched his face and his eyes were sunken in, even his fiery dreadlocks seemed to droop.

"Oh.. Pickle.." not knowing what else to do, Toki put a hand on the drummer's shoulder, trying to make him better but not sure what to do.

"Ah mean.. look at me..wash'd oot feck'n has bin.. now Ah gotta do all dis gettin' famous shit ah-ll ov'r again.. feck.. jus feck..Ah don' even kno' if Ah got it in me any more.. too old fer dis shit. Feck'n 28 feck'n years old.. I shoud 'ave my shit together.. git married,, settle down wit' kids, and a feck'n drive a SU-Vee , sum shit like tha'" As he spoke, his voice got shriller, and louder.

"Joos nots have-beens, Pickle" Toki said softly " Joos famous singer, nows joos be-comeink famous drummer..Can' be have-been ifs yous ams still famous..Joos can stills find nice lady, have babies.. get "es Joo Vee"

Pickles looked up with teary emerald eyes lined in red. He started sniffling. "Gawd.. Ah'm so feck'n pathetic.." He wiped his nose on his navy blue wrist cuffs.

Toki got up, and heated some sausage pizza in the microwave as Pickles sighed mournfully in the living room. He returned, hot pizza on a large plate, accompanied by one of Toki's cosmic brownies.

"Ah.. noo.. Toki.. those yer brownies.." Pickles pointed out, feeling even worse than before.

"I shares.. joos needs cheerings ups. Don' be sad, Pickle.." Toki smiled , sitting down next to Pickles.

Pickles eventually felt better with a bit of food in his system, and went to leave for work, but not before Toki gave him a big hug, and thrust a few pizza slices wrapped in tinfoil at him. "Joos haves nice day."

With Pickles gone, it was time to get started on chores for today.

First up was mowing the weeds Mordhaus called a lawn. He changed into a pair of cargo shorts, and one of Skwisgaar's tank tops, and went down stairs to the garage, there he found Pickles' old lawn mower tucked into the corner. Pickles had shown him how to work the damn thing earlier that week, but it quickly ran out of gas before Toki could finish unearthing the stretch by the side walk. It looked super crappy- a swatch of cut, scraggily grass against the knee-height weeds of the rest of the yard.

Toki started in the front yard, having to stop every so often and pick up various beer cans that were hidden In the weeds. He chucked them near the garage door to pick up later. The front yard was finally done, sticks and cans in a heap in front of the garage. He was breaking out in a sweat, and pulled off his barrowed tank top when he reached the privacy of the fenced in back yard. He didn't want to risk anyone seeing his back again, it made him uneasy and he hated when people pitied him.

Toki actually liked doing yard work. The sun was warm as it was crawling across the sky, and the weather was pleasant. It was a far cry from sweeping the snow back in Norway. He could take as long as he wanted to with chores, which was nice. His new family really appreciated everything he did around the house. It was completely different from where he came from. He never felt so happy in his life. Even though he was sweating his ass off mowing the yard for an hour or two, but it felt good to get out and excersise.

Grabbing a damp rag (it was actually one of Murderface's shirts, but to be fair-you could hardly call it a shirt), Toki carefully dusted off all the surfaces in the living room. There was a lot to clean. Murderface had all sorts of tacky looking fantasy weapons on the walls, and figurines of dragons on every available surface. With all the drugs being smoke, snorted and inhaled, and all the sex in various parts of the house, it took a lot to keep clean.

Standing back, Toki admired his handiwork. The living room was certainly cluttered, and claustrophobic, but at least it was cleaned thoroughly twice a week. All the surfaces shone, and if it was in a commercial, there would have been sparkles everywhere with a nice smiling lady standing in the middle of it looking impressed.

Toki gave the kitchen got the same treatment. All surfaces scrubbed till they shone, the cupboard doors wiped down-they somehow ended up with peanut butter smears and Ozzy know's what else. That done, Toki got on his hands and knees to scrub the floor, feeling a slight burn in his abs as he scrubbed away.

Next: Laundry. Pickles was gone, so Toki wandered into his room first-scooping up piles of various shades of black and indigo. If it was on the floor, Toki would wash it. Pickles got really sloppy when he was drunk, so anything of his had to be washed before he could wear it again.

_Silly Pickle. What did you do before Toki? _

Toki filled the crappy tub full of icy-cold water, before dumping a small capful of blue detergent in. He carefully swished it about before dumping in a few sleeveless tee shirts. He scrubbed each shirt twice, before setting it to the far end of the tub. Pants, then socks.. finally.. ugh.

Underwear.

It was Toki's least favorite thing to wash of his band members. It grossed him out a little bit, as everyone had questionable hygine to begin with.

He added extra detergent, just in case, and gritted his teeth.

Finally, all of Pickle's clothes were sopping wet, and a pile, before Toki drained the bathtub to fill it with clean water again. Rinse. Rinse, rinse. Cap full of cheap "Sunshine Daisy" scented , watered down fabric softener. Swish, swish, swish. The blue stuff really didn't smell like daisies at all, just a chemical verson of clean, Toki supposed. Hopefully it would mask the alcoholic-sweat scent of Pickles.

_Doesn't the beer smell ever come out?_

He wringed the water out the best he could.

Finally, Toki was done with that, and threw the pile into a clean laundry basket, and carried it outside to the several makeshift clothes lines he had set up between the wall of Mordhaus, and a fence post. Pickles was kind enough to supply some clothes pins he bought at the dollar store.

Toki actually liked this part of doing laundry-just standing outside in the warmth of the sun, absentmindedly hanging the clothes up. It was kind of like a meditation for him. An art form, as the clothes flapped softly in the breeze, dripping dry. It looked kind of cool-like the ultimate form of grundge-black, tattered clothes hanging off a child's jump-rope turned clothes line.

He thought about Skwisgaar a bit as he watched the clothes sway on the line. Thoughts drifted back to that tantalizing kiss on the sofa. He didn't think Skwisgaars lips would be so pillowy, or that he would kiss him so passionately. Even falling asleep to the steady pulse of the other's heart was so soothing, and so comforting. He felt so safe wrapped up in those arms.

And last night.. certainly that meant something. Didn't it?

_Didn't it?_

Toki's brow furrowed in thought, his heart aching slightly. _Then, what about that granny at the food-library?_ _He didn't even seem to like that old lady, didn't even say good bye. But, why did he do it then? _

_What am I to him?_

_He likes hugging me, and he kissed me.. surely, that means he likes me. Doesn't it? _

_And why does it hurt?_

_I'm so confused. _

.

He noticed the time-nearly noon. He really should get more coffee brewing before the others woke up.

Skwisgaar strutted into the living room, half naked, at half-past one. He was clad only in those pale grey silk boxers of his, which contrasted beautifully. He looked very sexy, Toki thought with a blush. His hair was still damp, hanging in long, loose tendrils down his back and his chest. The golden hair contrasted beatufiully against his ivory skin, making him look like a vison of Baldr, the Norse god of beauty, shining slightly in the dimness of Mordhaus. His expression temptingly soft for someone with such fine features, his lips looked even more pillow-soft then normal, almost swollen, if that was possible. Skwisgaar contemplated the teen on the sofa with darkened eyes.

Toki was on the couch, a big book of weapons on his lap-it had lots and lots of interesting pictures to look at (Toki was worse at reading English, and then he was speaking it). Skwisgaar grabbed a mug of coffee, and sat right next to the teen, his long legs touching his.

"_Morning" _ the Swede murmured into his cup, glancing sideways at the teen.

"Good morning." Toki chirped, closing his book and setting it aside. Weapons from around the world can wait.

"_I see you have that bear with you.."_

"_It's a real cool bear"_

"_Pffft." _Skwisgaar snorted_ "It was only cool thing at the dildos prize booth. I wanted to get you that dragon toy-"_

"_That one? But it was 1000 tickets!"_

"_Don't be a dildo.. dragons are totally metal."_

"_But I like what you got me" _

"_See? You're a baby, wanting a teddy bear over a dragon.." _

"_am not!"_

"_Ja.. joos like little girls with cute little soft toy.. joo going to dress it up too?" _

"_well.."_

"_HA! I knew it! You going to be sewing little dresses.."_

"_No! I thought Deddy might look real cool with like a vest and wrist cuffs-something totally metal."_

"_I didn't know you could sew.. want to make me a pretty quilt?"_

"_Shut up, Skwisgaar"_

"_Ah, come on.. "_

"_But your just making fun of me!"_

"_See, that is why you a baby dildo.."_

"_I AM NOT A BABY DILDO!"_

"_Now you acting like a cry baby."_

"_Quit saying I am a baby!"_

"_Nope"_

"_Why are you being so mean to me?"_

"_I am not being mean. Your just a dildo"_

"_Yes, you are being mean! You are an asshole!"_

"_Such filthy words coming out of such a cute little mouth"_

"_Shut the hell up!"_

"_Awww. Little Toki is getting angry.."_

"_Your pissing me off!"_

"_Your pretty sexy when your angry.."_

"_Just knock it off!"_

"_You like it, don't you?"_

"_Wh-what , no!"_

"_Haha.. I knew it… your adorable like that, even if you are a baby dildo."_

"_Stop calling me a dildo!"_

"_But you are.. dildo"_

"_Fuck you, Skwisgaar"_

"_You are welcome to try.." _

"_w..what?"_

"_Fucking me, that is.."_

"_No..that wasn't what I meant!" _

"_I think otherwise"_

"_Is everything really sex with you?"_

"_Not always, Little Toki" _

"_what do you mean by that?"_

"_And that is why you will always be a little baby dildo" _Skwisgaar laughed softly

They sat in silence, side by side for awhile like that, quietly sipping at their coffee.

Eventually Skwigaar decided to make his move-reaching an arm back behind Toki, before gently pulling him closer. They watched some retro documentary on Egypt without really paying too much attention to it, enjoying the companionable silence. Skwisgaar sipped his coffee thoughtfully as Toki picked up Murderface's oversized _Weapons of the World_ book.

Toki was curled up on the sofa now, his slender legs tucked underneath him, leaning slightly into Skwisgaar. Every now and then, while he was flipping through the huge book, he would point at a particularly brutal looking weapon to the blond, who would nod in agreement.

Toki had to get up to use the restroom, and Skwisgaar missed the warmth of the other at his side. –but Toki quickly returned, refilling both their cups and came back to curl up at his side once more. Skwisgaar noticed that Toki was leaning into his side slightly more, and smiled a bit to himself.

Skwisgaar brought a hand to the boys hair, running his hands through the now delightfully silky chestnut hair. Toki leaned into his touch slightly, wiggling a bit closer.

"_Your hair is a lot nicer now"_ Skiwsigaar observed, sliding his long fingers through

"_Thanks.. "_ Toki said, looking up at the lead guitarist

"_You should grow it out again. Maybe all the way to your waist. It would be very brutal-just like a Viking. We could time our pinwheels to match each other. "_

"_That would be cool. Very metal." _Toki tugged at the end of Skwisgaar's hair, admiring it's length and color. "_Yours is very nice-like gold."_

"_Hmm"_

Skwisgaar got up, and went to his bedroom to pull on some proper clothes and grabbed his Explorer from its stand in the corner. He pulled his hair back into a low ponytail, and went back into the livingroom, to find Toki already with his Flying V.

They practiced for a few hours, until Nathan and Murderface started to wake up around nearly three thirty in the afternoon. By then, Toki and Skwisgaar could play another song perfectly, from start to finish, and were hashing out a cord for another song.

Nathan was a night owl by nature, and was usually cranky until he got a few cups of coffee. Toki sat down his Flying V and brought Nathan his favorite extra tall black coffee cup, Nathan grunting his thanks as he sat down, sitting where Toki was just a few minutes ago. Murderface sat on the otherside of Skwisgaar as Toki heated up a few slices of left over pizza in the microwave for the lead singer, and several more for Murderface, who was usually starving when he woke up.

He made sure to use the remaining slices of Hawaiian for the bassist, dabbing Louisiana hot sauce on top. Murderface seemed to put the red liquid on nearly everything he ate, which amused everyone else to no end. He brought the pizza and a can of soda out to the bassist first, then went back to bring over the small stack of slices of various kinds of pizza, a small bowl of ranch at the side. Where Murderface put Louisiana hot sauce on everything, Nathan did the same with either barbeque sauce or ranch. It must be an American thing-not wanting to actually taste your food. Or maybe, all those years of eating over processed, chemically-enhanced food killed the sense of taste dead at birth.

Toki settled himself on the floor, in between the Swede's spread legs. It was quickly becoming his spot when everyone was around. Pickles usually perched on the arm rest closest to Nathan, or sprawled on his stomach on the floor close to the TV.

"Hey.. Toki, the place looks, like , really nice" Nathan said as he looked around a bit as he tossed back his coffee.

Ever since they got the Norwegian , Mordhaus was sparkling clean, the snowdrifts of cans were rounded up twice a week and exchanged for food. The kitchen was so clean you could actually eat in there. Hell, even the neighbors were complaining less.

"Tanks. Hey, Na'tan, cans wes takes back de cans? We have lots. Maybe we get some foods? Maybe tings fer sam-miches, sos joos, Moiderface an Pickle takes fer lunches at works. "

"sounds ok with me." Nathan said, munching on his second slice of pizza.

Everyone was quiet for awhile, just watching some medical documentary featuring open heart surgery. Murderface in particular, loved these kind of shows-the gorier, the better. It didn't seem to bother him as he ate his way through his third slice, chewing noisily.

" I need to stop by the library to return my books. Just, I don't know, lemme get dressed and shit. I got today off work, so.. yeah. " Nathan finally said as he polished off his plate, scooping the last bits of ranch up with a finger.

Toki grinned. He loved the city's public library. It was huge! Nathan was always a regular there, stopping in nearly twice a week to pick up or drop off a book, keeping up with the latest and greatest. It was always interesting to see what books the lead singer would pick out-the subjects were always so wide and varing. A few weeks ago, Nathan had stocked up on a huge stack of human anataomy books, some of which had some really cool pictures of guts, eyeballs, things like that. Another week, Nathan studied every single book in the library having to deal with executions, famous homicides and medieval methods of execution and torture. Plus, more then that, Nathan seemed the most relaxed there, which was a rareity.

From what Toki knew, being around too many people stressed the Floridian out, and he sometimes had a hard time expressing himself vocally. He was also intimidating when you first met him, but Toki knew that Nathan was one of the best guys you could ever know. He was loyal, patient, and remarkably thoughtful, even if he didn't always show it.

Nathan pulled on his usual outfit-a random black metal band shirt, nondescript distressed jeans, Doc Martins. He had a canvas bag with him that he drew a weird skull-creature on it. The thing had spikes coming out of its head, and it seemed to be stuffed with guts. Nathan said it was going to be the new Dethklok mascot-he figured, all the great metal bands had a skull mascot, so Dethklok should have one too. This one was Facebones. Not the best name, but fuck it, Facebones was cool.

"You coming, fuck face?" Nathan smirked, stuffing his bag full of books to go back.


	9. Bookshelves and Beetles

Authors Note: I do not own Dethklok. Sorry. Don't own them at all, but I like using them for my own personal amusement and perversion.

Toki burst out of Nathan's beat up pickup truck and hopped on to the charcoal grey asphalt in the parking lot of the city's public library. Nathan slowly got out, his Facebone's bag full of heavy tomes and encyclopedias.

Nathan followed behind as the little Norwegian bounded up the stairs to the entrance. He reminded the Floridian of a giant , skinny puppy. Toki was always stumbling on himself, his limbs long and slender like a fawn, but his hands and feet were huge in comparison, his shoulder's boney and wide. The teen was still in that awkward stage of growing into himself, and he was constantly tripping over his own, huge narrow feet.

_SMACK!THUD! _

No sooner then the lyricist thought of the boy tripping, did the Norwegian do a full face plant on the stair steps-defying physics itself by tripping UP the stairs. Who the hell does that?

Oh, shit. His rhythm guitarist was dead. Fuck balls. Pickles and Skwisgaar was going to kill him. Not good.

Shit, fuck, cock,fuck.. fuck all manner of ducks. Oh, for Ozzy's Balls, the poor kid was shaking at the top of the stairs. Nathan felt his stomach clench somewhere deep down. He felt .. uh.. responsible for the newest and youngest member. Great. The fucking Nord was most likely bawling like a baby dropped on the floor at the top the stairs. Nathan ran up, two steps at a time to get closer to the Norwegian goofball, only to discover..

_Laughing._ What the fuck? The fucking Norwegian was giggling like a Japanese school girl caught on a molester train.

Toki, at the head of the stairs was laughing his ass off, grinning with his split lip, blood trickling down his narrow squared-off chin. His forehead was slightly scraped up, as was his arms, knees..

Shit

His hands were scraped up as well.

Why was the little fucker still laughing?

"Na'tan! I trips UPS de stairs.." Toki laughed, wiping at the blood at the back of his hand, only to end of smering it all over the lower half of his face

"Aren't you .. like.. _hurt_ or some shit? I mean fuck, Toki.. you made out with the fucking stairs.."

"Made out?"

"Like.. you know..kissing and shit"

"Oh, likes withs Skwisgaar"

WHAT? Surely he didn't hear that right. The kid didn't speak English too well, anyways. He must have meant how the nymphomaniac Swede would make out with everyone and anyone..

Anyone?

He really wouldn't put it past the pervert, being European and all that. Wait-that is against the no-caring rule. Never mind.

"Uh.. here.. give me a second.." Nathan went back down the stairs, back all the way to his pickup truck, and came all the way back, wheezing slightly, his huge hands clutching one of Pickle's spare bandanas. He held Toki's face in one hand while he cleaned the kid up, trying to wipe away all the blood on the kid.

He felt the kid starring up at him with those unnerving pale, cool blue eyes. He didn't so much as flinch when the singer ran the cotton bandana over a cut, slightly opening the wound just a tiny bit. It was pretty brutal, but deep down Nathan knew something wasn't exactly right with this kid. Maybe it was because of the scars Skwisgaar talked about. Maybe the stupid Norwegian had a high pain tolerance or some shit like that.

Fuck.

No caring.

Yup.

Never mind. The kid is clean enough to go in without scaring the librarian ladies. At least he didn't look like he had been beaten with a lead pipe.

"Tanks, Na'tan" the teen chirped, dusting himself off and straightening his clothes.

Nathan made a beeline for the return desk, unloading himself of his piles of books. The elderly librarian smiled kindly at the lead singer and made small talk with him, as Toki ran for the comic book section. Nathan was one of the regulars that would come in nearly every Thursday, rain or shine. His appearance might scare some people, but Nathan was always very polite and considerate, and was an avid reader. The little librarian ladies soon got to know him and his taste for unusual medical reference guides, cult classic books, and scientific journals. He was also a fan of the classics-especially the unabridged copy of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, before it was censored all to hell in the 1920's. He had checked the book out like five times so far, confessing that his favorite scene was Quasimodo bashing the people's brains out against the side of the cathedral, and his favorite character was Dom Claude.

"That's nice, I see you brought your little brother today" Pearl said, scanning each book in to the computer system. "He is such a nice little boy.."

"Hmm. Weird kid, though" Nathan smiled, or what passed for smiling. He liked the itty bitty librarians, in their cute little pastel cardigans, cheerful little kitschy brooches, and their crinkled, smiling faces. They didn't seem to be scared of him like so many people. They talked to him, found interesting books that he might like, set aside books that were donated to the library that was unfit to go into circulation, but still readable. Once and awhile, though he would rather be buried up to his balls in live scorpians then admit it, he helped them change lightbulbs or reach really tall items.

"We got some new books in that you might like. We have it set up in the Librarians corner. I rather think you might like the newest collection of H. short stories."

"Brutal. Thanks, Pearl" Nathan shuffled off, his empty Facebones back fluttering with each step. The Librarian's corner was just two bookcases set at an angle that featured various books on subjects that they found interesting, or related to popular media in some way, or something that was on the news lately. This week's selection proved to be a gold mine.

The lyricist found the perfect subject, and in copious amounts. Bugs. Beetles. Creepy crawly things that ran over decaying corpses. Centipedes that were many feet long and poisonous. This was a good start. He gathered up a selection, especially if they featured pen-and-ink style medical sketches that looked so metal. The beetles in particular looked particularly fierce, with long spikes, brutal helmets that featured samurai like extensions and pinchers that could cut off a finger.

_Perfect_.

Now where the fuck was Toki?

Not in the comic books.

Childrens books?

Toki sometimes read children's books because his English was so poor, that he needed the practice. Found him. He had a nest starting in the far children's corner-several books surrounded him as he sat on a bright red toadstool chair usually reserved for those under seven. He had a tongue out to the side of his mouth as he was concentrating on reading. The book was by Beatrix Potter, who Toki seemed to be a big fan of. As the singer got nearer, he could hear Toki softly reading out a sentence, then repeating it back to himself in Norwegian. When no one was around, especially Skwisgaar, Toki's English wasn't that bad. It was thicker, slower than usual, but the tendency to add 's'es to things wasn't as frequent, and his verbs were more often in the proper form. It was probably because he could slow down and think about his English words , rather than try to clumsily convert from Norwegian to English all the time.

"Eh.. looks like you found some books.."

"Ja, this one haz a bunnies rabbits named Peter" Toki said, holding up the water-color pastel book. "this one has Thomas de Kitten" then sheepishly looked up.

"Okay."

Maybe Toki was expecting him to make fun of him or something. No point to, really. So what if the teen used children's books to practice reading in English. Who cared? He already knew he slept with that weird teddy bear the lead guitarist gave him, and that he liked cooking and cleaning. That had nothing to do with playing brutal music, so Nathan didn't care. He could be as weird as a fruitcake if he wanted to, so long as that shit stayed at home and he melted faces off on stage.

Toki got up, cradling his pile of books, and set them down at the hardwood desk that Nathan was using as his book drop spot. Nathan wandered about the tall, long rows of books, running his hands reverently along the dusty spines. No matter what year it was, regular books were still the best. There was just something so awe inspiring about the actual physical presence of books. It was there in the smell- the comforting scent of the library. It was the scent of desperate dreams, heartbreaking depressions of the writers, the dust of dying ideas, the death of entire ecosystems. The library was like a catacomb for all pre-electronic culture. Books sat, forlorn and forgotten, untouched for years. They sat, being eaten alive by the hordes of silverfish that darted about almost unseen in the shadows. It was a brooding type of comfort as Nathan moved from one row to the other. Shiny, plastic-covered books glinted in the guttering yellow light that streamed in from the tall, narrow windows that illuminated the rows of shelves. The lights overhead were soft, outdated, by thankfully not fluorescent, their glare soft, yellow-orange, gentle. It was dim, and cozy, womblike environment that the singer felt most at home in.

Someday, when he got famous and didn't need to give a fuck about money, Nathan would have his Library of Alexandria, with gothic columns, carved arch ways, stained windows. It would be his cathedral to the written language. His temple for the non-digital, the authentic, a tribute to all those writers, lyrics and poets before money got in the way and fornicated away any creative integrity. He would have all kinds of books, in every subject , old and new. He would have copies of precious works, ancient tomes, rare editions. It would be all his to plunder at his will.

Until then, once a week on his day off, he could be content to get out of the house, away from the noise, and just enjoy the silence and solitude. Sometimes Mordhaus felt suffocating, and crowded. It had gotten better with the little Norwegian there, since at least Mordhaus was clean and tidy at all times, but sometimes a man just needed time to _think_.

Maybe Nathan just needed to get laid again. Betty Page, Our Lady of Bondage, he needed to get LAID. All capital letters, bold-face typing, laid. Preferably by a blood thirsty Valkyrie that was trying to fuck him through the floor and into Valhalla. Then, maybe, just maybe he can focus on his fucking music and get the songs so they can get their first album. No, album just sounded lame. Death Album. Dethalbum? Yeah. That sounded good.

Toki had wandered off to the small section of DVD's , looking at each one intently, brushing his hair out of his face with one of his scratched up hands. He chose a few scary-looking movies, as well as a few for just him to watch in the early morning .

Later On

Pickles came home after a long , crappy day at his shit hole gas station. It was a fucking pointless job. Watch the gas as they filled up gas, work the register, take money, yadda yadda yaddy. Ding dong doodily do.

He found, as he walked through the door, was the mouthwatering aroma of that cheap pot roast he bought the other day. It smelled like heaven after an eight hour shift. Toki had set up the folding card table, and tried to set it up nicely. It was cute, and slightly pathetic at the same time. Pickles the drummer, who had seen and done nearly it all, was touched. All the plates didn't match, and the glasses were chipped. The silverware didn't match each other in the slightest, stolen from various diners a couple pieces at a time. In a Cool Whip tub were a small pile of baby carrots, cooked in the brooth of the roast, and had some salt and pepper sprinkled on top. A margarine tub held the potatoes. There was a container of a luxery item-cottage cheese, as well as another Cool Whip container holding corn, dotted with bits of melted margarine.

It was a feast.

Pickles felt tears prick the corners of his eyes as the little Nord served him up a plate. Everyone helped themselves, nothing but a few kernels of corn was left, and they huddled around the rickety card table, Nathan on one side, Pickles on the other, Skiwsgaar and Toki were side by side, their bony shoulder's touching, though neither seemed to mind. Murderface sat furthest from Nathan. It was like the oddest "family" dinner in history.

"Schoosh, whatsch about the new albums" Murderface spat out, mouth full of half-chewed food.

"Murderface, chew with your mouth shut for fucks sake!" Nathan growled, annoyed as bits of stuff came flying over the tiny card table.

"Whatssh? I can't eat without you saying schoo? FUCKS YOUSCH!"

"No, I just don't like you spitting your fucking food at me, asshole!"

"Guys, guys guys! Jesus feck'n Christ on a cracker… list'n , lets jus' have a nice meal, eh?"

They ate in silence for awhile-or as close to silence as you can get with Murderface joining the table.

"So, yeah, uh, I think I have some ideas. " Nathan began

"Yeah, so?"

"Beetles are pretty metal, right? They have horns and shit. It's fucking brutal. We can do a song about them"

"Rollin' around in corpses. Maybe?" Pickles added, tilting back some cheap $3 bottle wine. He was in a good mood, so he poured some for the others, even Toki, who only got a little bit.

"Whats about de beetles crawlingsk out of peoples? Like… dey eats foods with bugs eggsies, then it comes outs of dere guts ands eyesballs?" Toki said after a few sips of wine, a pretty blush creeping along his cheeks. Skwisgaar agreed heartily.

"Or hows abouts dey lay eggs in de brains, and they eats de way outs?" Skwisgaar added, tilting his glass at Toki

"That's fucking brutal!" Nathan said gleefully, finishing off his plate

"What about big fuckin' giant bugs pickin' up people and .." Pickles began

"Ansh drops themsh on to a fucking volcano or schome schit!" Murderface finished

It went that way for a while, everyone leaving the now cramped kitchen for the living room. Pickles was sprawled out on his back, hands resting on his full belly , a full glass of wine by his side. Toki and Skwisgaar were side by side, which for them was becoming the norm, leaning against the wall facing the couch in the living room. Both had their long, skinny legs outstretched and overlapping each other's , as well as their arms, when Skwisgaar looped an arm around Toki's, ignoring Murderface's protests saying it was a European sign of friendship. Pickles and Nathan didn't really give a rats ass stapled together inside out, so whatever.

The conversation turned to other types of insects, and how they could possibly make them into some type of metal song. Nathan, who kept his beat up crappy composition book at hand nearly all the time, was scribbling down various song titles. So far they looked promising.

_Coleoptera _(which was the scientific name for the family of beetles, and Nathan decided it sounded pretty metal.)

_Gagging on Maggots_

_Iron Butterfly _(Pickle's idea-song about a snuff film beauty who is pinned down and dissected piece by piece, all while set to more classic tune)

_Centipede_

_Brains and Beetles_

Skwisgaar and Toki soon grew bored and began talking to themselves in their mother language. Pickles watched them out of the corner of his eye , a slightly whimsical smile on his lips. He saw it, clear as day now, even if he was getting tipsy. Toki was leaning against the blond, tugging at his tank top playfully as they were talking, and Skwisgaar was smiling.

The Swede never smiled. He smirked, sure, but never a honest smile on those full , girly lips of his.

"Oi, what you two goin' on about?" Pickles grinned, interested

"Wes thinks wes shoulds have guitars due-ettes. Intra-mentals, hauntings-sounds. Somethingsk differents from other songs."

"Uh.. we are Dethklok, so we should.. you know, sound like Dethklok. Brutal, heavy.. fucking metal" Nathan said carefully, swirling around his cheap wine, feeling like a rich bastard for some reason. Well, that could also be from Pickle's fine-ass weed too.

"No, wes knows.. jus' first albums shoulsk shows ranges, whats ams wes cans do." Skwisgaar said thoughtfully

Pickles nodded enthusiastically, his dreads bouncing up and down wildly. FINALLY! Some one that knew what the fuck to do with a first fucking album! You get a few fucking songs together that showed what the fuck you were about, then you threw a few different ones in there to show what else you could do, you know, figure your shit out and what not. Then, you always added one or two songs that were totally different just for the fuck of it!

"Well what would the song be called then?" Nathan sighed, exhaling his smoke. Damn, Pickles always had the best shit.

"..uh.. Chernobyl Snows" Toki answered shyly, his face now full-blown pink. He listed to the side, like a magnet was connecting him to the Swede, and giggled a bit into his glass of wine.

Pickles grinned. He could totally see that. Icy instrumentals, crisp guitar crying out.. the stage could change from red lighting to cool blue and white. Simple, effective, brutal as an ice storm in Siberia. He could almost hear the melody –the gentle wail of Skwisgaar's Explorer, answered by the Flying V, as Pickles gently tapped the cymbals. The bass would rumble out like distant thunder. No words would be needed for a sparse, haunting song.

"Chernobyl… where the fuck is thatsch?"

"Feck'n Russia or sum shit. Big feck'n nuclear melt down, ya douchebag. Whole place is dead as dead can get"

"Hmm. Sounds good. Chernobyl Snow. I like that."

The conversation shifted from music to women as the fourth bottle of wine got passed around. Toki was now giggling into Skwisgaar's shoulder every so often, his legs pulled up to his chest.

First on the chopping block, was the iffy topic of Nathan's two regulars-Melissa Quick and Sam Berg (who ironically was the daughter of his old manager, Chuck ,but who the fuck cares about that?). Both were dumber than a box of rocks combined, and about as shallow as a petri dish. Melissa was bossy, and only came around when she got horny, which was once a week. She also would fuck Pickles and Skwisgaar when the fancy struck her, but Skwisgaar turned her down after one round.

"Shes a sloppies sluts.. alls overs de place.. " Skwisgaar commented casually

"Rilly, she was a major cunt-sorry, but she was" the yooper boy joined in, passing another joint around. "Decent tits though-man.. her nipples were TINY!"

Toki went to take one from Skwisgaar, who merely shook his head at the boy.

"Ones ting ats de times, Little Tokis.. cans'ts haves baby dildos sicks"

"_I want to try it."_ Toki pouted "_I am not a baby_!"

"_You are already getting drunk. You don't need to get high as well. One thing at a time"_

"Whatcha two lovebirds yakkin' about over dere?" Pickles grinned, tugging on a dread and examining it

"Tokis wants to trys de merry-a-wanna, buts hes alreadies drunks of de wines. I says nos, because hes baby dildos who cans nots handles any-tingsk yets" Skwisgaar pointed out, ignoring Toki's pouting

"Aww.. dat is sweet"

'Is nots, jus' don'ts wants to cleansk up de vomits "

"What aboutsch Chuck's daughter.. whatsch her namesh?"

"Sam.. gawd.. she was HORRIBLE!"

"Schtupids bitsch.. "

"Uh.. yeah. She was crazy. Clingy , she was always leaving her shit around. What was up with THAT?"

"I dunno, dood. It starts wi' one item, then she's conqured t' shower.. next thing ya know you got tampons under the sink, and she's livin' wit' ya!"

"I know! I know! Ozzy's Balls, I got Sam's shit all over the fucking place.."

"Heh.. ya know Toki's been using dat shit?"

"What? Heheh… Really? "

"Dats whats ams de reasons he smell likes berries.. like a goil!"

"Amsnest nots a goil!"

"Joo smells like a goils, Tokis!" Skwisgaar said as he sniffed Toki's hair to prove his point "Sees? Hairs smells like straw-a-berries!"

"Wells, I smells betters thens de rests of joos!" 

"Toki, smelling like strawberries isn't metal"

"I smells nices! Strawberries smells better den Murdarface!"

"Hesh! I smellsh likesch a man! Fuck Yousch!"

"Who cares if the goofballs smells like feckn' strawberries, n sum shit?" Pickles said inbetween drags of his fat joint "So, who was your first?" Pickles turned his attention to Nathan, ignoring Murderface.

"Easy-Jenny Davis, back of my truck. You know you can fit a whole queen size bed back there? Drove out to a section of deserted beach, and fucked her brains out til the sun came up." Nathan said, leaning back into the couch

"How old were ya?"

"17" Nathan snorted " Scored some beer from some friend's older brother. Just me, this sexy ass bitch, and the beach. "

"Schee any good?"

"Uh.. not really. Sloppy as fuck, but she had some great tits on her" Nathan motioned a huge handful

"What about you, Blondie?"

"Ja.. some manys goils.I don't keeps tracks of de malls, but ja.. first one ... de first was goil from schools" Skwisgaar said, throwing his head back as he grinned "Wes dids it on de teachers desk.."

"No way!"

"Ja… was 14.. she whats ams 17, nices plumps goil."

"Wellsh, minesh was this huge tittied redhead, fucked her schooo hard.. it wasch awesomes.. did it like five timesch. Wasch a boy of sixteensh.."Murderface chimed in, though none of it sounded convincing.

Pickles raised a pierced eyebrow at him "MMmmm…hmmmm.."

"Ha, lost mine at 13 to Seth's girlfriend while at a friend's pool party!" Pickles giggled into his new can of beer, with shouts of "NO WAY!"

"Hey.. Toki… "

Everyone turned to look at the teen, who was by now bright red

"Ja?"

"What about you, kiddo?"

"Tokis beens withs no ones.." Toki giggled

"HA! Toki's a virgin! Toki's a virgin!" Murderface chimed in, pointing a finger at him.

"Sos? That's amest nots bads.. " Skwisgaar, of all people said

"WHAT? Being a virgins, like. Not cool."

"We gotta get the kid laid.."

"Yeah, letsch picksh up some slutsch and all get Toki laid! "

"Oh, I... That's maybes a little too hards for mes to handle." Skwisgaar shifted ackwardly next to Toki , pulling his long lanky legs up his chest, hugging himself with his free arm , while pulling the bottle of wine closer to him.

"Slut party sounds good, but we gotta git our shit together, pump out an album, do sum gigs, git money, then we can fuck ourselves stupids fer all Ah care."

Nathan got up to go take a piss, and went into the kitchen to grab a slice of pizza, munching on it cold. "Fuck youself Stupid..heh"

"Could you actually fuck yourself stupid?"

"Wellsch.. with autoerotic asphyxiation .. if yousch cutsh off the air flow long enough, you can starve the brain of oxygen.. whamo! Retarded!" Murderface said calmly, crossing his arms over his fat belly.

"Heheh. Sex retards"

"Skwisgaar.. I dons.. _feel so good_." Toki started in English, but switched to Norwegian, holding his stomach

"Oh.. Tokis.." Skwisgaar looked over, seeing the Norwegian turn a delicate shade of green. " Comes.."

"Hahahah.. kid can' handale his shit"

"Noobie!"

"Cut it out guys, Toki's new to this shit, unlike you fuckers. " Nathan cut in as he watched the Scandinavians shuffle slowly downstairs. Toki's room was in the modified laundry nook under the stairs, and was right next to the downstairs bathroom.

Skwisgaar carefully guided Toki to sit down on the cool tile floor of the down stairs bathroom. It was smaller than the upstairs one, and used way less, usually only during band rehearsals.

Toki looked fairly pale as he knelt in front of the toilet. Skwisgaar pulled his hair back, tucking it behind his ears as best as he could. The caramel locks were still too short to tie back, so he did the best he could with it as his Norwegian counterpart started dry heaving into the bowl.

"_shhh… it's ok.. you just drank a bit too much_" Skwisgaar murmured, rubbing small circles into the teen's bony back, grimacing slightly as he felt each ridge of those horrific scars. They stood out like small ridges, and deep valleys , and Skwisgaar felt slightly sickened .

Toki started throwing up patheticly, crying and clutching the bowl. He didn't have much to empty, and was soon just resting his head against the coolness of the bowl, trying to ignore the acrid scent in his nostrils. He cried a bit more, feeling very pathetic.

"_Oh, Toki.. I shouldn't have let you drink that much.. I didn't know you were that much a lightweight" _Skwisgaar groaned

"_It was only two glasses.." _Toki managed after awhile

"_A few glasses , even if they were only half full, is still too much for you"_ Skwisgaar managed a small smile, his fingers rubbing small circles at the small of the boys back, feeling the hip bones jutting out at him. "_Baby dildo"_

"_I feel horrible.. Does drinking always make you sick?"_

"_No, don't be stupid.." _Skwisgaar began, just as Toki started throwing up all over again. Tears were falling into the toilet now.

"_Shh… sshhh.. It's ok.. It's ok.. " _Skwisgaar continued rubbing his back, and brushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes.

He stopped what he was doing in order to get a clean wash cloth, and wetting it with cool water, wringing it out as best he could. He ran the cool cloth over Toki's flaming forehead and face, along the back of his neck.

The teen sighed a bit, closing his eyes. "_Thanks, Skwisgaar"_

The blond started to pull off Toki's damp tee shirt, and threw it in a pile in the corner.

"_Come on, Little Toki.. we need to get you dressed in your pajamas.." _

Skwisgaar held the boy up, his long fingered hands carefully clutching and supporting the boy. He kicked open the cheap pressure-board door of Toki's so-called bedroom, and maneuvered him on to his rickety twin bed. Toki just flopped over patheticly, and didn't make a move as Skwisgaar started to unbutton his pants.

Toki felt weird. Like he was in.. suspended animation? It felt like his body was suspended in thick gooey jello. It didn't feel bad, just weird. His head felt heavy, his stomach was painfully empty again, feeling abused thanks to two days of eating to much, only to throw it all up again.

Skwisgaar pulled down the zipper of the pants, then started tugging it off. His hands were slightly trembling with the effort. The pants slid down those slender, fawn-like pale legs that seemed to glow in the red light of Pickle's old lava lamp. The pants sprung free, and Skwisgaar knocked the back of his head against the wall with the effort.

_Just put some pajamas on the stupid Norwegian_ Skwisgaar willed himself.

This was a bad situation.

Toki was sprawled along the length of his bed, his pale body lit beautifully in red, clad only in his tiny blue boxer briefs. He looked helpless, innocent and very inviting.

Skwisgaar used all his strength of will to turn around, found the dairy crate that held the small pile of Toki's clothes, and rummaged around, finding a clean pair of sweatpants.

Good. The Slut Pants. It will work.

He grabbed Toki's feet, and stuffed each leg of the sweatpants on, pulling the soft, thick fabric up those legs that Skwisgaar just wanted to nibble and lick.

Now the waist.

Oh, gods..

Little Toki was standing at attention. It was straining against the thin cotton fabric.

Skwisgaar bit his lip, and urged Toki to raise his hips. With the utmost care, the Swede pulled the sweatpants on all the way, but not before he heard Toki moan when the fabric brushed against his throbbing length.

_"Skwisgaar.."_ Toki said quietly, his pupils blown as he looked at his lead guitarist "_I feel weird.."_ He pawed slightly at his budding erection

"_I bet you do" _Skwisgaar smirked as he leaned down, his long blond hair tickling the boy's face. He planted a soft kiss on his forehead before pulling back with a groan. He grabbed the blankets, so nicely made up on the twin bed, and helped Toki climb into bed, pulling the covers over him.

"Skwisgaar?" Toki's face was owlish, his blue eyes huge in their sockets . He was sitting up, resting against the pillows, cradling Deddy in his arms.

"Hmm?"

'_Don't you like me?"_

"Pffttt" Skwisgaar snorted, blowing his long bangs slightly

"_Of course I do, dildos"_

"_No.. I mean.. uh.." _Toki fumbled with his Deddy Bear, tugging its paws up and down. He didn't look up at the other for awhile_. "Like-like."_

"_Like-like?"_ a golden eyebrow shot up near the blond's hairline.

Skwisgaar turned away from the shirtless teen on the bed and instead admired the artwork clumsily taped up on the wall. There were crudely drawn, like something a child might do. There were lots of pictures of him, Toki, and Pickles. Some of Nathan in what Skwisgaar supposed was the library, and even a few of Murderface sleeping on the couch, his legs spread wide, and his stomach popping out. One, though caught his eye. It was an Angel-Skwisgaar, holding a badly drawn Explorer. He was glowing.

Skwisgaar was touched, turning back around to face the teen, who was blushing beautify.

"_Toki._." Skwisgaar sat down carefully next to the boy, and took his hand in his own. He felt along the new , fresh scrapes he got early today "_Listen, I cares about you, ja? "_

" _You do?" _ Toki perked up a bit, sitting up more, and learning towards the Swede

"_Maybe, I don't really know yet. Haven't cared for anybody befores"_

He pushed Toki back down on the bed with care.

"_I think… I think I love you , Skwisgaar"_

"_Little Toki, your drunk.."_ Skwisgaar whispered, pulling the blankets up to the boy's chin

"_No.. its true.. I think I love you.."_

"_Toki.. your only 16.. You don't know what love is."_

"_Neither do you.."_

"_I've been around a bit longer then you have, experienced a lot more."_

"_But.. you kissed me"_

"_Ja, I did, and it was hot"_

"_And you are always nice to me"_

"_Because you are cute"_

"_And you got me Deddy Bear"_

"_So you wouldn't have nightmares… Toki"_

"_Am I not good enough?" _

"_Why do you think that?"_

"_because you .. don't.. because.. uh.. with the old lady.. and ugh"_

"_You think your not good enough because I won't fuck you like some stupid slut in the back of a store? Are you fucking retarded?" _

"_No.. "_

"_Toki, I only fuck sluts when you they are drunk.."_

"_I'm not drunk"_

"_You aren't a slut either. Your better than that"_

Skwisgaar leaned down to capture Toki's lips in his own for a second, before he pulled away, tucking a stray strand of caramel hair behind his ear.

"_Toki.. just listen to me for a second.. I like you, I like you a lot. Maybe not love. I don't know. Whatevers, but … gods, I wants to. I really wants to, Toki. "_ Skwisgaar breathed heavily, petting the hair with slightly trembling fingers

"Skwis.."

"_But, I can't.."_

"_Why? I don't understand..why not?"_

"_Because you're sixteen, and your drunk -off only two and a half glasses of wine. You just got done barfing, and you fucking deserve better then to get fucked through the mattress by a Swedish whore like me" _Skwisgaar gritted out, leaping off the bed like it was on fire.

Skwisgaar stormed out Toki's bedroom, only to return briefly with a gallon icecream bucket container, a small glass of water, and some alka-seltzers.

"Skwisgaar? Did I do something wrong?" Toki asked, hurt swimming in those baby blue eyes of his.

"_No, no. Toki, you didn't do anything wrong. Just, relax, and go to sleep. I'll check up on you in a little bit. I won't go anywhere until you start feeling a bit better."_


	10. Unworthy ( a mini-chapter)

Authors Notes: I do not own Dethklok, ding dong doodily doo.

Warning: gore, suicides, murder, fun shit like that. What else do you expect from the band Dethklok? Sheesh. Sorry this chapter is short. More to come shortly!

Skwisgaar came back up the stairs, finding Nathan and Pickles thoroughly baked, and Murderface was drunk off his ass. Suddenly, he wasn't in the mood anymore to drink. The Swede just drifted through the living room and made his way to his bedroom. He sat down and stared at the wall for awhile.

His head fell into his hands, his face curtained by his long, wavy gold hair. He was now officially royally fucked. Odin, he was so fucked now. He was okay with entertaining the thought of the Norwegian having a crush on him, but nothing prepared him for Toki to confess being in love.

_Odin, strike me down now. Please. _

He was used to sluts throwing themselves at him. He was used to the aloof affection of cougars and GMILFS. He could handle the desperateness of young, single moms trying desperately to regain their lost teen years before parenthood set in, in one-night stands in the bathroom of some seedy bar. He didn't mind "climbing the mountain" of very voluptuous women, who were always happy for attention of any kind. He could fuck them all without a care in the world, his head and heart free of any guilt. He would, and he did, fuck them any which way from Sunday, in semen-soaked mattresses, in seedy bathroom stalls that sported more DNA samples then a set of CSI. That was all okay in his little black book. Experienced women, married or not, always flocked to his side. He could fuck their tiny little STD-riddled brains out, and leave them in the morning, hair mussed, mascara smeared, and no worse for wear. They already had jaded pallets, and even more jaded hearts. Those jaded hearts were already broken, damaged before he ever met them. Their hearts could handle one more crack, one more tarnish. He was just one more on a wilting daisy chain of lovers, though he liked to think he was among the best.

He wasn't used to this. Anything but this-Toki, laying sprawled out with full-blown pupils, his lips slightly parted and moist, hair dishelved, clad only in a adorably adolescent pair of boxer-briefs that could barely contain his budding erection. The red glow of the lava lamp made it seem all too perfect, like a high-class porno. The look in Toki's eyes-that was the problem. It was the look of devotion, hopes, and worst of all, true love. It was that kind of look that was soul-shattering, something that was deeper then Skwisgaar thought possible.

Skwisgaar bit his full lower lip, nibbling on it, shredding it slightly. He looked down at his pale, long fingered hands. He clenched, then released it after a bit.

Love.

He couldn't deal with this shit.

In his younger days, yes, he knew the game, he liked to teach the young, nubile girls, guide them down the path of debauchery, kick them further down the paths to becoming whores that would rival even his own mother. But quickly, tears and virgin blood spilt hardened his heart-he made no promises, offered no pleasing words of love, devotion and destiny. They fell from grace on their own accord, burnt their own wings to ash to bask in the burning flame of Skwisgaar's cold passion. They would throw themselves at him, wailing like a heartbroken harpy, clawing at his chest, tearing his threadbare tee shirt with their painted nails. They clung to him, desperate for his love, his affection, hell even his recognition.

He didn't offer any.

He couldn't.

And he would just smile scornfully down at them.

They fell; they were the ones who soiled themselves, tossed away their innocence so cheaply. Whores. He spoke only truths, offered no sweet lies to take away the pain stabbing their hearts. He told them, they knew who he was, what he offered. His body offered comfort, little more. Whatever damage was done, it was on the women. They knew the price. He merely gave them exactly what they wanted-pleasure, and nothing more. He was to merely be the first of so many, that was all, nothing more.

Sometimes, a girl would go off the deep end, screaming about destiny, about broken promises, and threaten to take her own life unless the Swede said those three magic words. It was so funny- they wanted him to confess his love when they didn't even fucking love him. What a joke.

He would laugh, the girl backed into a corner with her weapon of choice. A razor, pills, a long rope, gun flashing silver in the dim light. It was all the same. Coward. _Bitch._ Hypocrite_._

_Just do it_, he screamed. _Fucking do it, you worthless whore, do you value yourself so little? You're the one that took what I offered! I said nothing about love, made no promises! You made your own choice! _

The first one always haunted the Swede, brains and blood splattered against the wall of a cheap, nondescript hotel room, somewhere, sometime long ago. He didn't even know her name, or remembered what she looked like before the bullet tore through the side of her skull, exploding on impact, bone shattering everywhere. Her blood spattered so beautifully against the wall, making its own art even as her lifeless body collapsed.

The others were nothing special-slit wrists in the bathtub, collapsing in the kitchen clutching a bottle of pills, calls late at night from a pay phone, desperateness oozing out of every pore. Could he come? They all said the same thing, breathing heavily into the phone. They just wanted to talk-could he come? He would always show up, his hair messed and slightly hung over. . It was always the same conversation- the same accusations, the same wailing like a banshee while they abused him with their tiny fists as he stood there looking like a damn demigod. It would always escalate to the breaking point, no matter what the Swede did. It was inevitable. Sometimes he got there in time, other times he merely phoned for an ambulance, gave the address. Sometimes those women would get creative-hurling themselves from various landmarks, making street art below, or disemboweling themselves and writing his name with their lower intestines. That one was rather interesting-he had been locked up for two days while trying to explain _that_ to the local authorities.

He swaggard down his own path, leaving behind pools of virgin blood, and the bodies of those stupid enough to try to confuse his lust with his love.

He stopped trying to care. If they wanted a piece of him, it was on his own terms, and soon he gave up on anyone remotely reeking of innocence. He welcomed, instead, all the damaged ones, the unwanted ones. He lavished his attention on the old, the fat, the obviously undesired as part of his atonement for crimes he never committed.

He no longer kept count, the nameless faces melted into each other, the old, the young, fat and thin, none of it mattered but the squeeze on his cock, and his own pleasure. He took pleasure and gave it back, he had a reputation to uphold after all.

This was different, now. This was something more deeper, something more intense. It was Skwisgaar's turn to fall, let his wings get burnt to ash, his fall from grace. It was too late any way, he was tainted, soiled, filthy and wretched.

_Unworthy_

Hands fisted at his golden hair and he bit back a moan. This was so fucked up, fucked up bad.

He didn't know what to do anymore.

God, he needed to talk to Pickles for advice. The older drummer always knew what to do about nearly everything. Being in the most successful glam rock band of the 80's made Pickles a master of discretion and a fountain of wisdom. He had been around the world, he had done nearly everything, did every drug currently known to man, (unless you count Krokidill-but no one was retarded enough to try that shit) and seen it all.

Pickles will know what to do.


	11. Club Baby Seal

Authors Note: I do not own Metalocalypse at all. Do not own Dethklok. I merely borrow them for my own personal amusement and perversion. Hopefully, more perversion to come. Also, this chapter contains a small OC, but don't worry I refuse to do a Mary Sue or Gary Stu, ever.

**A few weeks later**

Toki found himself perched on a broken down amp in the corner of a basement of a friend-of-a-friend of Pickle's in a place ,known bizarrely as Club Baby Seal . He was dressed in Pickle's old hand-me-downs yet again-distressed and ripped all to hell skinny jeans, and holey Snakes N Barrels tee shirt that was so threadbare it was nearly translucent. As Pickles was a few inches shorter than the rapidly-growing teen, the jeans barely reached the kids slender ankles. In the crowd, Toki blended in perfectly in the sea of black shirts and distressed jeans.

Club Baby Seal was a 70's style split level house with a gigantic walk out basement, a fairly good main area. The basement had a long, comfortably padded bar surrounded by Halloween lights, and orange Christmas lights. . On the shelves were bottles upon bottles of various types of booze-ranging from Viking Blood Mead in a clay bottle, to Pernod Absinthe, and various flavors of schnapps. To the left hand of the bar was a long tacky card table that was laden down with various snacks, including to Toki's delight , cupcakes. There were also piles of brownies which had a label on them saying "Adults Only, Please" with a drawing of some green plant that the Norwegian didn't recognize. There was also brownies with frosting and sprinkles labeled "Kid-Friendly" , which Toki gladly helped himself to a few. Weirdly enough, there was huge bowls of Swedish Fish everywhere, as well as piles of Sour Patch Kids. Toki wasn't about to complain, he loved candy and he got a strange kick out of the Swedish Fish, thinking of Skwisgaar's reaction to them "Dey amsnest nots from Sweden!"

There was a fridge nearby, which was stocked to the brim with all types of German style beer, pitchers of lemonaid and bottles of spirit mixers. There was also a huge selection of various sodas, including strawberry flavored Crush. The top of the fridge had several anatomical human skulls and an impossibly, hilariously over-sized monster dildo in pitch black silicone. The top of the heavy silicone member sported a tiny plastic green St. Patrick's Day hat at a jaunty angle. In a corner was a male manikin that was spattered with neon paint, and had a huge neon green strap on codpiece attached to it. A policeman's hat completed the ridiculous ensemble. Somehow, the strange oddity fit in with the rest of the discorded decorations.

Here and there were broken-down couches, and chairs, none of which matched each other in the slightest. The theme simply was "70's Garage Sale meets 90's Grudge", which oddly enough gave the place a comfy, lived in feeling. For whatever fucking reason there was a wooden board duct taped to a part of the wall, an angry face crudely drawn in it with a Sharpie, but it was cool. Behind the bar there were several posters 80's style glam-rock girls posed in high-cut bikinis, their faces artistically replaced with Nicolas Cage's creepily smirking face. It was hilarious.

As he looked around, he noticed more posters-some were cult classic movie posters, others were various band posters, several of which, Toki noticed, were of Snakes N Barrels. Pickles and his band stared wantonly at the camera, pink painted lips puckered up in a mocking, bitchy sort of way. Toki studied one he was closest too. He didn't recognize the other members of the band, but focused instead on the much younger Pickles. His red hair was all over the place-like a lion's mane. His green eyes were lined in black, making the green appear more vivid. Toki briefly wondered if he would look good in eyeliner like that, but then thought how girly that was.

He then glanced over at the drummer, seeing the difference in age-this Pickles was a bit pudgier , his hair in thick dreads, some of which were combed over in order to hide his bald spot. Not that it was a bad look. Present-day Pickles was currently talking to the owner of Club Baby Seal , two icy cold bottles of something in his hands.

Pickles patted the owner guy on the back before wiggling through the crowd towards Toki's corner. He holds out a pink bottle of something that smells fruity to the Norwegian, who hesitatingly took it from the drummer.

"You'll like dis one, Toki.. it's fruity, and light enough for ya that I won't get Blondie on my case aboutcha" Pickles shouted over the music.

Toki took a sip, it was really good. It had a syrupy sweetness to it , and he didn't taste the alcohol at all in it. He grinned at the drummer, pointed to the drink raised in his hand, and gave him the American thumbs-up sign. He drank it within minutes, and was starting to feel fairly good. Thank Odin he was wear a thin top, because it was hot in here. The body heat, the booze and the various hookahs scattered throughout the area made it hot and humid in a hurry. The shisha smelled heavenly, some using peach flavored shisha, and the largest one was using a combination of strawberry and a hint of something else, which made it smell like strawberry pop tarts. Toki imagined that Wonderland would smell like hookah smoke-soft, fluffy and deviously wicked.

The drummer wandered off looking for people to talk to, leaving Toki to people watch in the corner. The music overhead was playing a strange mash-up of a techno violin song and a some death metal song Toki wasn't familiar with. . The DJ was a dorky-looking chubby kid with a surprisingly pointed noise, who kept messing with the songs as they were being played. The area of the floor was cleared to make room for anyone wanting to dance. The next song started up, and suddenly the floor was bogged down by a incoming tide of black and indigo. The tide swelled, ebbed and flowed with the music, everyone swaying in harmony and discord with each other. Toki hoped off his amp and joined in, losing himself in the heavy beats of the music-a combination of techno and death metal.

He grinned as he flailed his arms about, mimicking the dance moves others were doing. He probably looked like he was having a seizure, but what the fuck? He felt hands on his slender hips, but didn't turn around right away, until a curtain of blond hair fell across his vision.

"Hellos, Little Tokis.." the blond guitarist said , his lips brushing against the teen's ear. He was gyrating against the Norwegians back, matching beat for beat with him. The increase of people in the tiny "dancing area" made their bodies press together all the more.

Skwisgaar bit back a groan, spinning Toki around to face him. Much better. Toki looked up from where his face was smashed up against the other man's bony sternum, which seemed lovelier in the orange lighting. The blond man reached his arms around crushing the boy's hips to his own, grinding into him in time with the music. The teen could feel the other man's hardness as they bumped and grinded , which make him feel lightheaded and giddy. It was the very mimicry of sex that made the teen flush with excitement. The feel of the Swede's hands rucking up his shirt was nearly too much. Toki's nerves were on fire, his skin feeling suddenly too tight. The song ended all too soon, replaced by a slower tune, and the crowd dissipated towards the couches to smoke hookah, or towards the bar for a refill. Skwisgaar still had a tight hold on the kid's shoulders as he steered him towards the bar again.

Toki was handed another pink wine cooler by the blond , and was steered back to a vacant loveseat in one of the darker corners. He felt his face flush as Skwisgaar settled down next to him, the loveseat sinking in far too much, squishing the pair closer together. Toki grasped the cool bottle in both hands and timidly looked around before sneaking a glance at the Swede.

Skwisgaar was watching Toki was his innocent lips wrapped around the frosty bottle , watching him gulp down the sticky sweet drink. His eyes lingered at the Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he drank, then back to the lips which seemed fuller. He licked his lips, and lowered his head, looking up through his long golden eyelashes, biting on his full lower lip before slowly releasing it. He allowed the tiniest of groans to escape his lips as he imagined what he would love to do to the scrawny teenager.

Toki's already large frosty blue eyes got impossibly huge and round when he saw Skwisgaar eye him like he was a delicious treat he couldn't wait to devour greedily.

His thoughts were interrupted by Pickles and another redheaded man coming their way. The man looked a lot like the drummer, except he was younger and much thinner, though his hair was down halfway to his back in a low pony tail. He was dressed a bit more casually then the rest, a loose fitting green shirt and dark not-so-skinny jeans, and oddly enough, green and white stripped socks.

Toki had a slight fetish for novelty socks-he felt it added some fun, plus people never really saw your socks, so who gave two flying fucks in the Vatican if your socks featured seasonal motifs or super heroes? Toki had a growing stash of socks-his current pair was Loki from the Avengers.

"This is Skwisgaar, he's our lead guitarist, and the kid is Toki, he plays rhythm." The drummer pointed out "This here is my cousin, Cherry .. he said he's gonna be our DD tonight so we can all get shitfaced.."

"Cherrys.. likes de fruits?' Skwisgaar asked with a smirk from his position on the loveseat

"Eh." The man named Cherry shrugged good-naturedly, not offended by anything.

"Why joos calleds a fruits?' Toki had to know. Then again, he still didn't get an answer on why Pickles was called Pickles. Was he named that when he was a baby? Did he change it? Maybe it was something Pickle's family did-name their kids after food stuffs. What was the rest of the Pickle's family's names? Pickles and Cherry… maybe there was someone named Pizza, or Cupcake. That would be funny.

Cherry turned his attention to the older redhead "Oi, Pickles, no OD'ing on me tonight, kay? I dun' wanna have ta git yer ass to the doctor's and sit 'round da damn ER fer five fackn' hours bored ta tears caz they gotta pump yer fackn' bloody guts and IV yer scrawny ass arms n shit.. plus, I gotta deal wit yer bitach of a ma, and .. dun git me started on yer dad.. fucker. Sorry.. they jus' keep naggin' me ta bring ya back ta Wisconsin, and well, fack them, am I right? Fack.. I kno' ya like it 'ere wit' yer band an all...I'm gonna get a soo-da.. ya want sumtin'? '

'Sum vodka and orange juice, eh?'

"Screwdriver it is..'

Toki was still confused, but didn't think too much on it as the man wandered off somewhere, leaving Pickles behind with the two Scandinavians.

"Whats ams Dee-Dee?' Toki asked, looking up

"Designated Driver. Means that he will drive us home so we can totally get drunk tonight. Cherry can't drink anymore cuz of his meds, so he is a good DD. Can usually call 'im up anytime for a lift, rilly.. '

"Hows do yous normallies gets homes whens joo drunk?"

"Nathan usually gets stuck being sober so he can drive. Pisses the fucks outta him." Pickles said absent-mindedly before he moseyed off in search of the lyricist to tell him the good news. The crowd swallowed up the little redhead drummer within a few feet.

Toki settled back down against the loveseat, and relaxed as Skwisgaar turned to face him, leaning against one impossibly slender arm. The lead's long fingers trailed lazily at the boy's collarbone, playing with the ends of hair that was starting to brush his wide, bony shoulders. Toki mirrored the action, turning his body to face the older man, and bringing his arm up in a similar fashion, twirling playfully at the golden tendrils. The world seem to shrink down to the two of them, even though Toki could feel the bass of the music thumping against his vocal cords and in his veins. The music seemed softer, muted, and the edges of his vision where delightfully fuzzy. The world shrank down until the party beyond the two Scandinavians ceased to exist. The Swede was staring at Toki thoughtfully, his eyebrows arched in what most people would deem a scowl, but the Norwegian had come to know as Skwisgaar's "thinking face".

The eyebrows furrowed deeper, and those impossibly full lips turned down slightly more at the corners, and Toki noticed that the older man seemed to be tracing small circles now against his skin, trying to work out what to say next.

"Toki…" Skwisgaar murmered softly

"Ja.."

More soft tracing of his skin, and Toki was starting to shiver. Club Baby Seal was now positively packed with people, and the basement was swelteringly humid from all the body heat. But Toki suddenly felt icy cold and feverishly hot. How the hell was that even possible?

"I_.. uh.. do you like your drink?_" The Swede blurted out, his face suddenly terrified. "_Mine is empty..uh"_

Toki watched the back of the Swede as he went back up to the bar, only to be slapped on the back by giggling Cherry, who was busy downing a tall bottle of some fruity-looking cocktail. The Swede seemed awefully tense, considering that he usually seemed to thrive in a crowd full of drunk and horny women. He spoke briefly to the redhead before he sauntered back to the loveseat in the corner, this time a strawberry soda in one hand, and a Legspreader cocktail in the other, its color a opaque yellow-green, but smelled like pineapples and coconut, which the lead guitarist was very fond of.

"Pickle's friends Cherry said nots to gets you toos sloppies, saids for everys twos drinks you haz, you drinks a sodas..which is dildos, buts joos little baby that can'nst handles joors drinks" Skwisgaar scoffed as he sipped at his "buts, tries dis, I tinks joos likes."

Toki took a cautious sip-it was surprisingly good, the pineapple and coconut reminded him of Pina Colada popsicles that Murderface would buy him from Aldis. The melon flavor, though was a nice twist. He took a few more little sips, before he felt the glass being tugged from him.

'dats enough, Tokis.. sips de sodas insteads..'

"I has to finish de seconds ones firsts..' Toki whined, holding up his half-full bottle of Jamaca Me Happy wine cooler.

"Alrights, buts afters dat, you drinks sodas.. don'ts wants yous barfings all overs de places"

Toki sipped the rest of his wine cooler as he watched the party from his cozy loveseat in the corner. Several plus size women were dancing in a trace-like way to a slow paced, melodic techno song. The way their full hips were gyrating under their full, fluffy Lolita skirts reminded Toki suddenly of the hippos in their pink, frothy tutus in that Fantasia movie. Toki couldn't help himself. He started giggling into Skwisgaar's shoulder.

He felt good, damn it, so fucking good. Bubbily. That was the word. Bubbily. The music was really good, the DJ was blending deth metal with trance with an eerie effect, and dance floor was seething with everyone dancing, bumping and grinding against each other. Everything just felt wonderful, and here Toki was, on the other end of the world from Norway, in a friend-of-a-friend's basement, the world's fastest guitarist alive by his side on a crappy little 70's plaid loveseat.

The very same lead guitarist that constantly showed the love-starved Norwegian affection, the very one Toki was falling in love with. The blond was absentmindedly petting the back of Toki's head as he drank his Legspreader cocktail.

Toki sipped the last drops of the wine cooler, leaning back into the loveseat. He was now in the most brutal dethmetal band, they had been signed to a label. Hell, within a few weeks, they would be finally recording their songs and making their very first album. He, stupid little worthless demon-spawned Toki Wartooth, was going to be rich, maybe not famous right away, but he could have money to buy things.

He finally had a home, his own room. His new family let him have coloring books, and things to draw with, and he was allowed to have toys for the first time in his life. It was a far cry from his punishment hole and his clown doll, which he had to hide from his parents, who refused such basic creature comforts as a companion doll.

He had clothes-okay, they weren't fancy, but they were _cool_. Back in Norway, he only had a ragged pair of shorts a a threadbare tee shirt, two pairs of socks, two pairs of underwear. His family didn't see the need in providing more then the barest of the bare basics. Toki didn't even own a sweater, much less an actual coat for the freezing cold. He dreamed that one day he could wear whatever he wanted, and here he was, wearing "devil's music" tee shirts, and skinny-leg jeans , and shoes that had laces.

He finally was wearing band tee shirts like he always wanted, granted most of them were various Snakes N Barrels tee shirts (Nathan's were so big they ended up more like a dress on his small frame), but they were band shirts. It was even cooler that they were worn by an actual famous person-Pickles. The same exact Pickles who pawed through his belongings in search of a lava lamp because Toki just couldn't stand the dark anymore. Pickles, who tore through his closet in order to supply the homeless teenager with something to wear, because he knew the others clothes wouldn't fit (Skwisgaar didn't have much, and what he did own was miles too long in the legs for the short Norwegian).

Nathan took him to the library every Thursday, rain or shine, so he could get books to read, and he never made fun of him for his love of Beatrix Potter's works. Murderface took him to the cheaper drag races, and college baseball games, using a fake school ID to get him in for free. He even let Toki join him when he went "dumpster diving" or "curb shopping", where they would drive about in Nathan's truck, looking for anything good that was left out on the curb. Sometimes they would keep something, adding to the Mordhaus, other times they would pawn or sell it at a secondhand store, then buy whatever the two wanted with it.

All the stupid, horrible shit that went wrong in his life led up to him, here now, sitting next to a gorgous blond man, sipping some pink fruity wine coolers, listening to some metal-techno mashup, in a basement. And, for once, Toki thought perhaps all the beatings, all the scars, all the drudgery in the snow was worth it for him to just end up here next to the fastest guitarist alive, his hands on the older man's knee like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Suddenly, Toki felt wetness on his cheeks. He was crying. It wasn't sad crying, not exactly but still.

"_Tokis.. what is wrong.."_

"_I don't know"_ Toki hiccupped, clutching the fabric of his shirt in his fists, looking down at the orange-brown shag carpet.

"_Please.."_ Skwisgaar's cool hand was at the teen's shoulder, and the blond was leaning down to get a better look at the Norwegian.

'_I guess. .. it just hit me.. that I am here, right now. I'm actually at a party, with friends, and cupcakes, and booze. And I am wearing a real cool band tee shirt… I am in a dethmetal band, and I have my own room, and toys, and I got to kiss you.. and.. " _Toki babbled, hiccupping harder as tears fell down onto his Snake's and Barrels shirt.

Skwisgaar grabbed a small handful of Toki's shirt_, _too worried

"_then why are you crying, Little Toki?"_

"_I'm just really happy..I'm sorry I'm so weird.. I just get like this'_

"_shh. It's okay, come on, lets get out of heres.. too crowded."_

Skwisgaar stood up, and bent down to offer a hand to his rhythm counterpart. Toki on his feet, he followed the blond up the stairs, ignoring the grins, and smiles of the other party goers. They blinked when they entered the kitchen-the bright fluorescent lights seemed harsh after the mellow orange glow of the Halloween lights in the basement. Wonderful smells drifted up from various crockpots, and there was several bags of various chips.

They walked , Skwisgaar's around around Toki's shoulders, through the living room which was crowded with a bunch of sorry looking metal head kids hunched over a coffee table, deep in a game of Magic the Gathering. In a recliner, a blond punk rock chick was making out furiously with a Gothic Lolita, her giant head-eating bow disheveled in her hair. Skwisgaar shot the punk girl a grin. She flipped him off with a cute smile.

Skwisgaar ignored random people in the hallways, before opening up a random door. Nope. Bathroom. Next one, closet.. but there was already in there, passed out drunk and holding a foam battle axe. Nice.

He found a small bedroom that was unoccupied, and pulled Toki with him into it. As soon as the door shut, he pounced on the Norwegian, who just smiled sweetly at him before rising on his tiptoes to kiss him back.

Odin, he missed this-he was positively starved for the other's kiss. He wanted to devour the younger man , and he focused his energy into lapping his tongue playfully against the others. Sweet Black Fucking Sabbath, the kid tasted sweet, syrupy strawberries coupled with the illicit tang of alchohal. Naughty and Nice, Skwisgaar thought as his hands slid up Toki's shirt to reach his tiny little nipples. His skin was so velvety soft, and Judas Priest, the kid's skin was on fire. He pushed the shirt, revealing those cute little pink disks.

'Gods.. Tokis.. what ams yous doingsk to mes_?" _Skwisgaar groaned against a nipple before sucking at it greedily.

Toki moaned loudly, arching his back against the door of the bedroom and into Skwisgaars hot mouth. The older man bit at the petite nubbin of flesh, and slid another hand along the teen's bulging inseem of his jeans. Toki nearly screamed when the blond man rubbed his member.

He never felt anything like it, and his breath caught in his throat as the older man slid down on his knees, his long fingered hands hooking around the teen's jean loops .

Skwisgaar looked up at his rythim counterpart, drinking in his flushed innocence. He loved how the boy's chestnut hair was nearly down to his shoulders, loved how the choppy, peicey layers he cut on his first day was now grazing along those sharp cheekbones. That wide mouth was parted ever so slightly, the corners up turned into a sweet smile. He wanted to make this good, he wanted to savor this for himself as well, like Toki's innocence was a fine wine to sip, savor and take the time to thoroughly enjoy to the very last drop.

And savor he would.

Skwisgaar carefully unbuttoned the Norwegian's jeans, before sliding down the zipper. Toki was starting to hyperventilate above him, and was trembling with nervous energy.

"Skwisgaar.." Toki breathed, reaching out a hesitant hand to awkwardly pet the blond's hair.

"Relax, Little Toki.." Skwisgaar pulled the teen's straining member free of its blue boxer-briefs. Cute, he thought, so cute. The Norwegian's wood was gorgeous, slightly curved, and much thicker than his own, though not as long , but still sizable. The color was nice too-delicately pink at the tip, but deeper in color then his own ivory rod.

He touched the velvety skin and caressed the bulbous tip. It was throbbing with need, and starting to weep for him.

Skwisgaar looked back up, his breath catching in his throat. Toki was just so fucking gorgous, he was biting at his lower lip, his head thrown back against the door, and was staring down at him with those glacier blue eyes shadowed by those thick black eyelashes. His face had a beautiful crimson flush. Perfect.

He lowered his head, breathing hotly on the Norwegian's wood, watching it pulse slightly, bobbing just a tiny fraction of an inch. Then, with a gasp of pleasure, Skwisgaar took the engorged head into his wet mouth, before starting to slide down the length.

Gods, he was thick, stretching his jaws to the fullest as he took the teen down to his downy base of his cock. Toki desperately clawed at Skwisgaar's shoulder, his hands fisting in his golden hair, making mewing cries.

The Swede should have known his rythim guitarist could only handle so much, and within a minute, Toki let out a strangled cry, releasing his seed into the surprised blond's mouth. Skwisgaar bobbed slower, letting the younger teen come down slowly from his orgasm.

Smirking, Skisgaar pulled back so he could swallow every last drop, savoring the sweet-salty taste. He lingered, closing his eyes at the sensation. He had never enjoyed himself to much giving oral pleasure as he did now.

"Yous dids verys goods." Skwisgaar murmered, standing up and brushing off his knees. He crushed the Nord in a embrace , leaning against him as he buried his head in the younger one's soft brown hair. He was still achingly hard, his body screaming for release, but he wanted to take things slow.

"Wowee" Toki gasped, his eyes not quiet meeting his, but rather down and to one side. He was obviously embarrassed. He patted the blond's back, and nervously petted along the length of the other's silky wavy hair. He didn't know what he should say. Thank you? Was that a good thing to say?

"Um.. _thanks_?"

"Dids yous likes it, Littles Tokis?" Skwisgaar smiled warmly, stroking along those cheekbones with a calloused thumb.

"Ja.." the teen breathed shakily, tracing circles along the other's upper arms.

"Wes cans dos dis agains, as muchs as yoos wants.."

"Id.. like that, a lots.."

"Me too.." Skwisgaar sighed, resting his forehead against Toki's, his touches soft and slow, relaxing. He wanted to make sure he did this right from start to finish.

There was now lots of noise coming from the other side of the door, and he heard a pair of yooper-tinted accents crawling throught he walls.

"Where da hell did Jailbait and Blondie go?'

"Dood.. dun call Toki Jailbait, dats not cool.."

"Yer da one dat brought a cute kid like him to Club Baby Seal, man.. dun start that wit' me.. until ya told me his age, I thought maybe ya were gonna set me up wit' him.. '

"Gawd.. Cherry.. ya'r rilly, rilly gahy..'

'The gayest ginger eva'

The Scandivanans scooted away from the door just in time for Cherry to open it. He saw them, mid-embrace, Toki's pants still undone, and Skwisgaar's hair messed up. Toki looked paniced, his eyes huge and round, and Skwisgaar scowled at the intruder.

'Hey.. Um, .. . dun lemme spoil yer fun', and with that the redhead dug in his baggy jeans for a packet of lube, and a condom, which he unceremoniously tossed at them with a shit eating grin, before closing the door, laughing like a merry Leprechaun as he sashayed down the hall, steering Pickles away from the bedroom.

'Yannow what ya need, Pickles? A good ol' game of Beer Pong, eh… lemme ask ol' whatshisnuts about it..Ca'mon.."


	12. Club Baby Seal II

Authors Note: Do not own dethklok. Sorry. I also want to apologize for the less then stellar last chapter, as well as the piece of crap I posted "fog against the window". Those weren't really up to my standards, and I'm in the process of rewriting them. Reviews are love.

Toki and Skwisgaar looked at each other, their faces frozen in an awkward mix of horror and humor as the redhead man slammed the door on them, leaving them in the dark. It felt like his heart just dropped down to his toes, and he felt sick to his stomach.

"What do wes dos?" Toki brethed, starting to tremble, hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He tug his rumbled shirt down ,and fumbled to get his pants back up around his waist. His poor hands were shaking so badly, he couldn't button them, until the Swede carefully laid his long finger hand over his, and helped him.

"Its be okay, littles Toki" Skwisgaar whispered into his caramel colored locks, running a relaxing hand up his slender torso, before gently cupping his face. "Shh… its be okay.."

Skwisgaar carefully carded his fingers back through his long golden locks , and tucked the front of his tank top back into the front of his pants to showcase his Swedish flag belt.

"_We just go down stairs like nothing happened, and if asked, I just say I was with a slut.."_

Toki looked like he had been bitch slapped, and Skwisgaar groaned, throwing his head back to glare at the ceiling. "_Oh, Toki.. that is not what I meant.. it's just a story if someone asks..no one would think to check up on a story like that, see? I don't think you are a slut, Toki.. "_

Toki nodded slowly, before glancing at the foil packets on the floor. He thought maybe they were candy, or something. After all, candy did come in foil packets too. But why the hell would that weird guy in the pony tail throw candy at them? Was it an American thing? It could very well be-they threw candy at people for joyful occasions, but.. hmm. He was very confused.

"Skwisgaar, why dat guy throws de candies at us?"

"Uh.. Tokis.. nots candies.. condom and .. uh." Skwisgaar glanced at the other packet, flushing red "lubes.."

"Lubes? Why need dat..?'

"I shows yous laters.." Skwisgaar smirked , ruffling Toki's hair before stepping out into the hallway. Toki fixed himself up and followed the blond through the hall way. "Maybes nots de condoms, I cannest feels any tings with dems, pfffftt whats de points? I cans nots comes ats alls! Likes sleding downs hills in scuba gears! Besides, you amenst not a goil, so nots likes I needs one, ja? You no has de babies.."

Skwisgaar ignored the grins from the Magic the Gathering dorks, who heard Toki's cries from the bedroom, as well as their various mother languages.

"heh.. that chick was pretty cute." One guy whispered as Toki passed, his face bright pink.

"Amsnest a goil.." Toki hissed angerly.

"Tokis.. don'ts makes it worses.. ' Skwisgaar hissed , tugging him along into the kitchen. There was fewer people there, mainly a few plump goth girls huddled by the cupcakes comparing old scars along their arms.

Skwisgaar grabbed two paper plates, forking one over to the Norwegian, and started loading up on whatever smelled halfway decent. He didn't recognize some stuff, but after a sniff, deemed it ediable. He only took small amounts, as anything American was probably loaded with billion calories and fat, and fuck it, he wasn't going to end up fat, with a saggy ass and gross skin just because he was in the United States.

Toki was piling on food, half of it was pure sugary shit. "Toki, don'ts eats too muchs, you pukes all overs like Pickle in de mornings"

Toki pulled a face at him, before loading up on some mini-bun sloppy joe sandwhiches (who the hell uses cocktail buns anymore at a party!?), and threw a fist full of chips on top of the whole thing.

"Gods.. yous reallies goingks to eats all dat? Toki.. for shames.. you gets fats and sicks like American jackoffs.."

"Pickle says I'm a growing boy." Toki pouted

"He also uses Rums-chattas in cereals..'

"Yeah, dat stuffs reals goods."

"Toki! Dat amsn't nots fors little dildos babies whats has for breakfasts."

"Pickle says its goods, and its is"

"Don.. don't end up like Pickle, Toki. Seriouslies ." Skwisgaar said seriously "You okay how you ares, even if you dumb dildo baby dat plays shits for guitars."

The basement was writhing with people dancing to the heavy techno music, glowsticks flashing neon colors at random intervals. They wiggled their way over to the bar, where the ponytailed redhead waved at them to come behind the bar.

"Hey Jailbait! Blondie! How ya like da party so far, eh?" the man grinned, beckoning over to some low stools by the booze shelf. The Scandivanvians sat down, balancing their plates on their knees.

"Oh, sorry. Here" the man grabbed a crappy TV tray and swiftly unfolded it in front of them with a flourish.

Toki and Skwisgaar exchanged glances. Ok. Weird didn't even begin to cover it, but they were glad to have a little section to themselves and a place to eat in peace. The ponytailed man didn't pay them too much mind, other then to ask for a bottle of rum that was behind the Swede, or perhaps to pass him a bottle of Midori. He was too busy making various drinks for people and playing bartender, Pickles being the most demanding and repeat customer. Toki looked over at the Tomahawk native, who was in the middle of some conversation with other redhead.

"cool.. whatever.. " Pickles shrugged, enjoying his drink "What the fuck is dis that I'm drinkin' Its fackn' GOOD.."

"Um…San Francisco.."

"Cool.. dat got rum in it?" Pickles swirled the glass around appreciatively

"No."

"Vodka?"

"Nope'

"Not.. Tequila? Ya wouldn't put teguila in it, eh?"

"fack no… "

"Whiskey?"

"Why de fack would I give ya sumthin' wit' whiskey in it when I know how much o' an ass ya git when ya drink dat shit..."

"Got it.. schnapps. Ders sum kind o' schnapps in dis. Right? Eeey! I'm right, aren't I?"

"Sorry, Pickles... It's pineapple , orange and grapefruit juice and some sour mix. Ya add some grenadine and some sprite ta top it tastey, huh? Tastes like a fancy-ass cocktail, dun it..?"

"so.. der's no booze in dis?"

"Jus' juice.. it's good fer ya, dough..you need to drink at least something .."

"Man.. you're the fackn' DD so I can DRINK sum fackn' BOOZE! Dat's drinkin' something! " the drummer whined in his nasley yooper voice. "Jus, go make up something, ya fruitcake"

"Hey, now.. you be nice or I'm givin' Aunt Molly yer _real_ address.."

"You wouldn't…" Pickles paled.

Nathan came behind his drummer and snickered darkly. "You wouldn't what?"

"Oh, hey thar, Nathan.. didn't see ya. Grab a seat, and Cherry'll fix ya up somethin'."

"Where the fuck is that Swedish dildo-licker gone off to? And for that fucking matter, where is Toki? I swear to Ozzy that if that kid got ran over in traffic playing glo-in-the-dark Frisbee, then I am going to smash some skulls.."

"Relax, big guy. I got 'em both behind the bar like good lil' kids outta harms way. You needn't worry so much.. ya can't git inta too much trouble unless you start a Star Trek vs Star Wars battle or get into with the Magic boys."

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me, asshole?"

"Sheesh, Blondie was with some chick, and Jailbait was out with some of the kids closer to his age outside. There isn't much to tell. I'm the DD, not the babysitter, yanno.." Cherry lied smoothly, all while fixing up a Tequila Sunrise for Nathan. He added extra cherries before sliding it down to the black haired man.

"Mm… this is good shit." Nathan sighed appreciatively as he took some swigs. He settled down in his bar stool and started to talk to his drummer about the latest ideas for music. He flipped out his super-micro notebook, the one he had on him just in case, at all times. He was working out some of the lyrics for Coleoptera, and there was nothing like a good drink to creative juices flowing.

"_Coleoptera _

_Elytra_

_Take wing and flight_

_Gnaw claw _

_fight with might_

_Rip tear _

_Suck despair_

_Rise , destroy_

_Create, deploy "_

"Then something, something.. then.. hmm.. "

Spiked helmate

Souls' plummet

Spiricals gasping

… hmmm… something with green blood.. hmm.. then '_Torn Elytra, broken wings, gossamer, mandibles grasping for more_.Something Something. Something Brutal.. _Gnash, break flail, chew begin worlds anew_. Man, that isn't just right, though.. its not brutal enough.."

"You'll git it" Pickles grinned goofily, slapping Nathan on the shoulder. "We onlee hav' a few more songs ta perfect, den we're good..so, ca'mon an' relax"

Nathan grumbled, draining his glass in a few gulps. "Could I get another one, those are fuckin' good.'

"No prob..'

"Mansch.. yoush guys misched out on a schweet game of Riskch.. seriouschly.." Murderface announced as he came up behind the lyricist and the drummer, clasping them on the back. "I fuckcinsh tooksh Europe.. itsh wash brutalsh"

The bassist helped himself to a beer in the fridge, and snagged a free spot in the corner, which unfortunately gave him a clear view of the Scandinavians in the corner.

"Dudesh, whatcsh the fucksh?" Murderface began, looking annoyed at the pair's cozy little impromptu dinner. "Gotsh a tea party oversh theresh? Wantsh me ta bring yoush a doiliesh?" He sneered, spraying the counter with a fine shower of beer and beer nuts

"aww, yer jealous.. ya can come back here too if ya want. Be nice n' cozy back here' The redhead behind the counter winked at the bassist, who felt his face go white, then flush a deep red before stomping off, muttering under his breath.

Another Tequila Sunrise was handed over, and downed just a quickly, while Pickles went through Mai Tais like a parched horse in the desert went through water. Skwisgaar found his hands occupied with something tropical and strong, and Toki had gone through a few more pink wine coolers, this time without drinking strawberry soda inbetween as he could now feel comfortable helping himself to the fridge to the side of the built in bar.

"Tokis.. yous so cutes." Skwisgaar grinned into Toki's soft hair "Yous… likes a bunnies rabbits..Yous so smalls..but fluffy." He smiled as he tousled those silky locks.

"Wowee… reallies? I loves bunnies rabbits.. dey mine favoritesk anima-balls. So .. cutes.."

"Ja.. likes joos.."

"Hahahahahah.. joos a .. hahahahahahahah"

"Toki… joos drunks.. '

"No, amnest nots.. just.."

"Joo fells out of your.. chair! Dats ams drunks!"

"I not falls! Chair moves.. '

"Chairs.. don't moves, Tokis!"

"Dey do when room spins! Gahhh! So much… tilting! Who builds tilting houses? "

Toki was starting to giggle, now sprawled out in the corner behind the bar, the two of them deciding it was safer to actually sit on the floor then the stools, after Toki leaned too far back and landed on his bony ass. Pickles was wrapping himself around a bottle of whiskey as their DD went off to take a few people home, leaving the drummer to help himself to whatever. And help himself he did, filling a messy glass with whiskey, like how much people poured themselves a soda. He started humming an old SnB song as he chugged away, watching the crowd and the bright colors swirl together.

Nathan was getting fully sloshed on his Tequila Sunrises, and was really feeling it twist through his veins. Something darker, more brutal was starting to wake up within him, and damn, it felt good. It swam through his veins and things were getting murky…

Nathan became dimly aware of various people annoying him, and then the DJ saying something shitty about one of his favorite bands.. then..what was it?

Pickles was yammering about something, someone.. who? What?

Murderface was in a fight with some stupid shit kid over .. some kind of game..

Then things went red. Very red.

Then black.


	13. The Hangover

Authors notes: do not own Dethklok. Nope. And as for as Cherry goes, anyone is welcome to use or misuse him as they see fit. Go nuts. I'd be flattered if someone played with him.

1: Nathan

Nathan woke up feeling like the biggest, baddest ball of shit. His head throbbed like he had been hit by a sludge hammer, and his left hand was bandaged up in a green paisley bandana, and with a wince, he found to his relief he hadn't broken it. But fuck mothering Judas Priest it hurt. He must have fucked something up. His bedroom looked like it had been trashed by a rampaging rhinoceros. There was blood smeared on his walls, and his dresser was missing a few drawers, his clothes littered everywhere on the floor. There were some broken bottles here and there. And that stupid board with the badly drawn scary face from Club Baby Seal. What the fuck was that doing there?

He gingerly tried sitting up, but that was a huge fucking mistake. He leaned over, spotted an empty waste bucket, and let 'er rip. He felt like he should video tape this shit, because he was doing his best impression of the vomiting scene of the Exorcist. It splattered nosily everywhere in a disgusting shade of orange-pink. Oh , fucking Ozzy's balls, it had chunks. Lots of chucks. So much chunks. Chucks were splattering up the wall like some sick Rorschach splotches. No, no.. ah fuck my life to hell..

Nathan collapsed on the floor in front of his mess, clutching a corner of his black bed sheet with his good hand. If he wasn't so miserable, this would be funny as shit. Hell, he would be laughing at someone else if they were puking this much.

He tried standing up, only to flop to the floor like a voodoo doll, slipping on his mess.

Shit. It was now in his fucking hair. This was beyond brutal, this is sickhaus. Total absolute disgusting. And not corpse farm disgusting, which was cool as fuck, this was Grandpa Clogs the Toilet Again sick. Satan, he had chucks! Chucks in his raven locks, the same locks he secretly used hot oil on once a week to keep shiny and healthy. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone.. besides, Hot Oil. It's fucking metal right there.

But now, he had orangey-pink vomit splattered all over, and the acrid stench was making it worse. Nathan GI Joe crawled over to the window near the foot of his bed, and forced himself up to open the window as far as it would go, not caring about the light that was currently raping his poor retnas.

"Eey, big guy..yer up.." a voice called out, sounding very tired

"Just let me die, man.. this. Is sickhaus.. total sickhaus." Nathan muttered, leaning against the window with all his might.

"Ca'mon.. lets git ya cleaned up.. '

Where did he know that annoying as shit accent? Oh yeah. His drummer. Pickles. Ding dong doodily doodily doo. Though, Pickles looked a bit weird, but fuck, it was probably the tequila.

"Man, Pickles, how the fuck you even standin'" he muttered, only to start throwing up all over again, this time down his front , splattering on the floor. Fuck. "you drank like a million times more then me"

"Very very Irish..let's take aff yer clothes."

"Dude… I don't want you to get me.. uh.. naked.. Its kinda gay."

"Yer covered in vomit, and god knows what else, an' yer worried about bein' naked? Fack, dood.. I wouldn' touch ya wit' a barge pole if ya paid me a million bucks. I'm nat _dat_ desperate, yanno.. "

Nathan stood like a dumb animal as he vomit-encrusted clothes were peeled off, and a warm shower was ran for him. Gentle hands combed through his hair, getting out all the chucks. He didn't even give too fucks about being naked anymore. Hell, he'd seen the drummer buck ass naked many times, as well as the rest of the band.. so.. fuck.. he was still drunk. Or hungover. Can you be drunk and hungover at the same time. Fuck it. Standing under the showerhead felt amazing, yet aweful. The water was beating down on his bruises, and it just hurt. God, what the hell did he do last night?

He remembered slamming down some Tequila Sunrises.. and.. hmm. And some yelling. Okay. Good. What else, Nathan, come on boy, you can do it. Use those brain cells! You haven't killed them all yet! Okay, so you don't have a fucking high school diploma, but fuck it! THINK!

Okay… so there was Pickles betting him something.. he couldn't do .. something. With darts. Okay. Darts are pretty cool. Then there was that DJ kid with the pointy ass nose pissing him off. And then darts. To his head. Oh, boy.. that wasn't good. And red. Lots of red. Blood? Something with hemo.. hemo.. something. Yeah. Could be paint too.. red paint. Paint gun? No, didn't sound right.

Then.. ugh.. Some big guy with a lumberjack beard punching him. Hmm. That might explain the bruises. And then green, a green shirt and another Pickles. Two Pickles, what the fuck. World had enough with one yooper boy. Maybe he was just seeing double at that point. And… then there was the kid and the blondie.. doing stuff. Like sitting on his lap ugh..other .. stuff. Not going to try hard to remember that one.. Maybe it was a girl. God.. yeah.. a girl that happens to look like the Norwegian teenager... with a random Swedish guitarist.. and.. uhh… ughhhhh yeah. Repressing that one. Repressed. Okay good.

Then there was stomping around, and some kind of fight.

Wait. Where did the horror film blood smears in his bedroom come from? It wasn't from him.

Oh god. Did he kill his band?

That.. would seriously suck.

Majorly suck. Like suck blended together with more suck. A suck-nado. Hehheh. Sucknado.

His head throbbed angrily, but the pressure of the water was feeling good. Thankfully Pickles was thoughtful enough to keep the lights dimmed, the only illumination coming from the vanity light, and not the eye-gouging bright overhead light.

He found a clean black towel waiting for him, as well as a set of grey sweatpants with his old high school mascot on them, as well as a clean black tee shirt. No underwear. Free-ball it is.

He pulled on his fresh clothes, and felt the tiniest bit better. Like maybe two atoms and maybe an electron's worth better. Not much, anyways. He still felt like fuck, and his back and arms were sore. He could already see faint finger-mark shaped bruises all up and down his arms, like he was grabbed a few too many times by somebody.

He found his way to the living room , and plopped down on the sofa, throwing a pillow over to the other side so he could recline down. He heard some rustling noise and he saw some red hair peeking out from a tower of his vomit coated sheets and blankets.

Nathan ignored the various puke puddles on the floor. Whatever.

Nathan turned his attention to the TV, content to watch the Spanish channel on mute. He could just ab-lib what he thought they were saying this way. He couldn't think much anyhow, not like how he was. The Floridian still felt half-out of it. He was kinda drifting in between being awake, and not awake when a glass of something was handed over to him. It smelled like ginger. He sipped it a little, the spicy warmth coating his mouth, and soothing his rolling stomach.

2: Toki and Skwisgaar

The Norwegian started waking up, feeling overly hot, and sweating slightly. He heard muffled vomiting sounds coming from a room next door. That wasn't too unusual, as his bedroom was right next to the down stairs bathroom. Was Pickles camping out in the bathroom again?

His baby blue eyes blinked up at the ceiling , not recognizing it as his own. His own had stairs on one end, and glow in the dark stars on the rest. He felt slightly panicked until a long, slender arm tugged him closer. He tried squirming away, but the other person kept a firm grip on him. Pretty soon, before he knew it , he was playing little spoon to the lead guitarist, who wrapped around him like a koala to a tree. He wiggled a bit more, but a deep baritone rumble of annoyance prevented him from moving too much.

He felt himself go red at such an intimate position, he was securely tucked and wrapped up more protectively then he had ever felt.

He heard some muffled voices, one with a particular accent, the other deep and growling. Must be Pickles and Nathan that are up. He settled back down in the bed.

His shorter legs could only reach partway down the Swede's mile long ones, but somehow the blond had managaged to bend his long unicorn legs to fit snuggly in the crook of his own. His back was flush against the other's bony chest, and he realized he didn't have on a shirt. Or much for pants. He was pretty sure he was in his Aqua Man underwear, and that was about it. From the feel of it, his Swedish counterpart didn't have much on either..

Maybe those boxers he wore, because something felt silk against his bare legs.

That and something else..

Oh..

And dear god..

Skwisgaar was gently, sleepily rubbing his morning wood against the teen's bony ass. It was slow, and gentle nudging, but Toki felt it, and couldn't help but let out a tiny peep. It felt pretty good. Snuggling, and sleeping, and now the slow rub against his backside. It didn't help things that Toki had recently been getting morning wood himself.

He wanted to grind back against the other, but also wasn't sure how to make of the situation.

They.. hadn't… you-know-what-ed, did they?

He wasn't exactly sure how two guys could do you-know-what, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to walk if he had. He had seen glances of the lead guitarists and… wowee. It was huge. Scary huge.

He was pretty sure that when ever they got to the point of "you know what-ting" that it simply wouldn't fit, either that or he would die from it. His family would die of shame.. not that they were proud of him to begin with , but dying from being impaled in that way didn't sound very dignified.

And it was currently trying to start a fire against his Aqua Man boxer-briefs.

Thank gods he could now hear the shower running and the TV going off, otherwise he would have been scared that one of the guys would walk in and see him all snuggling with the Swede. Toki could never live it down. Muderface teased him all the time for being a "pussy" or a "cutesh littlesh housesh wifesh" and kept calling him gay all the time, because he cooked and cleaned for the band. This would certainly ad fire to it.

Skwisgaar murmured something against Toki's hair, but the Nord couldn't quiet make it out. It wasn't coherent enough for him to translate into either Norwegian or English.

He felt Skwisgaar freeze as he started to wake up.

"ugh… Tokis.. "

"ja?'

Way too early for English.

"_why are you in my bed?"_

"_I really don't know.."_

"_We.. had really.. really too much to drink, didn't we?"_

"_Ja.. we did.'_

"_I didn't.. uh.. you-know-what-ted you, did I?" _Skwisgaar sighed rolling over onto his back, to glare at the water stained ceiling overhead.

"_I don't think so, Skwisgaar.. I thinks.. I thinks I would be sore or .. something? Right?"_

"_probablies, ja *_snort_* …We should get up before the others see us.."_Skwisgaar made a face at the thought

"_Okay_."

Toki climbed out first, crawling toward the foot of the bed, as his side was against the wall. He stumbled out, and tried to find his clothes. His ankle-length skinny jeans were in a pile by the window, but his shirt was hanging off the ceiling fan. He tugged them both on, and tried to find his Loki socks. Toki would really get pissed if he lost one.

One was by Skwisgaar's pillow, the other was still tucked into his shoe. Okay that wasn't too bad.

Skwisgaar was propped up on one elbow, his hair soft and fluffy like a golden halo in the morning light streaming in through his sheer white curtains. He was watching Toki with sleepy bedroom eyes, enjoying the sight of the half-naked Norwegian stumbling around in his pathetic little nerd boy underwear. It was adorable. He stood and stretched, not caring how his huge morning wood stood up to salute the sun, straining against his silk boxers.

The Swede shot Toki a Cheshire Cat grin. '_See something you like, Little Toki?"_

"_Um… no?"_

"_Oh, for shame, Toki.. telling lies like that. I should wash out your mouth with soap. Maybe even that Lava soap Moidarface uses. " _Skwisgaar pulled a face at Toki, and stepped closer, looming over the Nord kid. "_Maybes I wash your mouth out with something better.."_

"_You want me to.. to do what you did last night?"_ Toki chirped, his face now as red as the drummers hair

"_Only if you really want to. I am not a pervert enough to force myself on anyone."_ He grimaced as he searced for his jeans and a suitable shirt to wear. He settled on some ratty old gray skinny jeans and a old, threadbare Soilwork tee shirt. Stuffing himself into those jeans was anything short of agony, though. "_Certainly not you"_

"_Id.. like to try it, sometime.." _Toki whispered, staring down at his Loki socks, wiggling his toes a bit.

"_That would be nice."_ Skwisgaar smirked, then groaned as he had to rearrange himself in his jeans. _"Maybe later, though.. my stomach feels like crap. This is totally dildos."_

The Scandinavians tip toed out to the living room, where they saw Nathan hunkered down over a glass of something, looking miserable. He was watching some show on mute and didn't look up as the two plopped down next to him.

"Hughh" Nathan grunted, sipping at his strange-looking dull yellow drink. It looked like Murderface's piss.

"Wes.. really drunks, ja?" Skwisgaar offered conversationally, ignoring the pounding in his head.

"Uhhhhh.. yeah. Very drunk."

3: Murderface

William woke up, feeling like shit, but oddly not as bad as he thought. He was dressed in his tee shirt and shorts, but his heavy leather boots were off, as well as his beloved leather battle vest. He felt fairly good considering everything, even though it was pretty hazy.

He had enjoyed himself with kicking the ass of some nerdy kids in Risk, then destroyed everyone in several trivia games. It was a good night. He watched, torn between cheering and wanting to make popcorn, as Nathan beat the living fuck out of the DJ and several of his friends. The lyricst could really hold his own in a fight, and even took on the Lumberjack, who towered over even Skwisgaar, and was practically twice as wide as Nathan in the shoulders. Fucker was huge.

Nathan, in a blood rage, merely pumpled the guy's face in, blood splattering everywhere. Will naturally wanted to add in a knife to spice things up, but thought better then that. He didn't want to have to pay Nathan's portion of the rent as well if the dumb ass Floridian got himself killed.

It got even better when the drummer threw himself in to the fight, grabbing the stupid board off the wall, and using it as a shield-sword thing against the guys who came to lumberjack dude's defense. Several of the metal head kids got their first bruises that night, Will smiled. Stupid, silly little poser boys. Wouldn't know what brutal was if it was shoved up their ass with a Bowie knife.

Some of the other details were fairly hazy, but Will vaguely remembered someone holding Nathan back from beating the shit out of anyone else. A good night, as far as William was concerned.

Even better-he was pretty sure he was making out with a sweet little redhead. Murderface grinned. He loved chicks with red hair. He liked them wild, and crazy. He loved truck-stop blonds too, but a redheads were always wilder, had a temper on them to match their hair. He loved making them mad, watching their eyes spit fire at him.

The redhead's face was a blurr, but what she could do with her tongue wasn't. He was pretty sure the chick could tie a knot with her tongue if she wanted to. Damn. Imagine that going to work on his hog. It would have been sweet.

Oh well. He had to pee.

Someone was in the shower, so he decided it would be best to use the one next to the weird Norwegian kid's bedroom. The stupid asslicker was probably sleeping.

4) Pickles the Drummer

Pickles was having a horrible, horrible dream. A ten foot tall nurse kept jabbing a giant sized syringe in his arm, draining him of all his blood. Dream Pickles started to shrivel up , shrinking down to a thin, two-dimensional shell of himself. It felt awful, he was drying up from the inside out. His blood was now being replaced with pickle juice, all while the ten foot tall clown nurse was laughing at him.

He jerked awake, and found himself in.. ah.. noooo. Fack. Fack, fack. Mother douchebag to end all douchebags, shit fuck.

A hospital.

Or he assumed one, because of the use of dreary pastels, and the beeping of various monitors. He'd woken up in them enough times to know, back in his old SnB days. He ended up becoming a regular at a local ER back in the 80's.

Mother douchebag.

A chipper young blond nurse hurried over to him, and started to take all the necessary vitals, all while happily asking him various nurse-y questions. Gawd.

"Ugh.. hey.. how did I wind up 'er, eh?" He turned to face the nurse, eyeing her large, bouncing double-D's that was right in front of his face. Gawd they looked juicy and so plump. Pickles desperately felt the urge to motorboat, but knew that it would end up with him kicked out or slapped, or sued. Or all three at once.

"Oh, Mr _{Censored}_, your brother Seamus brought you in. You have been treated with nearly two liters of IV, as well as a broken nose, and a fractured wrist… your vitals are looking alright, cholesterol is a bit high, but nothing out of the ordinary." The nurse chirped, smiling at him like he was a seat warmer on the short bus.

Pickles winced. Shit. Seamus… That meant Cherry had to haul his drunken ass in again. "Oh, okay den. So can I like go now or ya need ta run sum tests? Pump my stomach or sum shit..?"

"Don't you worry, Mr {Censored} we no longer pump stomachs anymore..the damaged caused by those things is hardly worth it..we just need to fill out some papers, and sign your release paperwork. Do you need to call for a ride?" the nurse said conversationally as she started to take out the IV's and wrap the drummer up in neon pink bandaging. God, now the boys were going to give him shit for this.

"Naw.. I'm good. Jus gotta call my brother." Pickles shot the nurse a lopsided grin.

"Okay, I will leave you to get your things."

Pickles sighed. Man, the nurse was even better going.. damn, dat ass! It was like she was smuggling a pair of puppies , so thick. Damn. Pickles was always an ass man at heart, though he would always have a soft spot for oversized, soft as a bag of pudding tits. Not the sloppy, Skwisgaar-variety GMILF tits that were saggy and had nipples near the navel. No, Pickles was class, he liked them high, round that took both his hands to hold one tit. Maybe it was because he wasn't breast fed. Or something. Hell, he had no fucking clue. It had been forever since he gotten laid. Even if he did get a girl, whiskey dick made it impossible. God hated the Irish. He cursed all Irishmen with whiskey dicks, skin that hated the sun, and a temper to match their flaming hair, as well as a population of school teachers who harbored the belief that all redheaded boys were trouble makers. God was a douchebag.

Pickles took a good look at himself in the hospital mirror. Man, he looked like shit. His nose was all busted up, and bandaged. He had more bandages on one side of his face, as well as a few bruises. He had seen more "battle damage" during a Snakes n Barrels bender. Whatever.

Man, hospitals were cold as shit though. That was some polar artic air conditioning that they had up in here. Shit. He felt like his nipples were gonna freeze off. He was never so glad he took out his old nipple piercings as he did now.

Within twenty minutes, he found Cherry chatting up the receptionist at the check out desk, having paid for Pickles bill fully in cash, most of which, the drummer noticed was in small bills. Cherry was wearing some of the drummer's old clothes, which probably made since as Pickles was pretty sure he puked everywhere. The other man was sporting way more then his fair share of pink bandages and bruises, he noticed. What the hell. The other redhead hadn't seen Pickles yet, and continued chatting with the cute little receptionist, who was positively smitten with the yooper boy.

"… yeah, see strawberries have a pH of 5.5 which is the same as yer skin. So here is what you tell your "friend" with the skin problem.. ya take like five strawberries an' ya mash 'em up, then ya add a wee dab of honey.."

'Honey?"

'yeah. It's antibacterial and its soothes skin.. then ya take a scoop or two, no more then like a tablespoons worth of plain yogurt, eh? Mix it up real good, then you put it on yer face, an' rough areas.. let 'r sit fer awhile, then ya wash it off. It gently exfoliates an' restores yer skin. The lactic acid in the yogurt peels away dead skin, and ya git this real nice glow to ya. Plus , its all natural, and you can eat the leftovers if ya want. I mean, it's jus' like a smoothie, rilly.. "

"How do you know all this?" the receptionist giggled

"It comes with being fabulous.."

"Oi! Fruitcake! Thought ya were 'ere to pick me up, not exchange makeup tips!" Pickles whined

"Sorry, sugar cube.. maybe we can hang out some time.."

"Ya ca'ming or nat?"

"Sor-rrreeeyyy, jus' enjoying my self a wee bit, figured ya could wait awhile after the shit ya put me through.."

"Like what?"

"Man.. you were really, really fackn' drunk yanoo..You and Big Guy were pretty fer-snickered there.."

Pickles climbed into the passenger seat of Cherry's little red car, and leaned back into the comfy seat with a long suffering sigh.

"How bad was it..?"

"eh.. pretty bad.. lets git ya a coffee and a donut or somethin' before I tell ya ok? Duncan Hills alright with you?"

5: Cherry

He was only gone for forty five minutes. Only forty-five minutes. He was taking a few drunk girls home, after fending Murderface and a few other horn dogs off them for most of the night, and had to make a detour for "feminine hygiene needs" for one of the girls at a Walgreens. They were too fucking drunk to be walking around in "public", which wasn't really public, as the store was completely empty, save for a pimple-faced moody cashier. So, he got stuck buying tampons, a handful of candy bars, and a bottle of Midol. It was pure agony. Who knew there was so many variations of tampons? Thin, Light, sport, teen, extra smooth applicator.. oh gods.. he settled for the most expensive, fanciest looking variety pack, at a whopping ten dollars. Out of his own pocket, as the girl he was buying for conviantly "misplaced" her wallet. He figured he would be nice, and mosey into the candy aisle, and pick out some chocolate, because every woman and gay man worth his salt knew that time of the month went hand in hand with chocolate. He had a reputation to uphold as the resident Gay Boyfriend.

The cashier stared at him long and hard while he brought his armful of items to the register.

"Theses .. aren't for me"

Nothing. Audio sinkhole.

He came back to find one of the girls passed out in the back, and another was barfing in the bushes. Not that was unusual. Probably not the first time someone puked in the bushes of Walgreens.

So, here he was, playing driver , driving all over the fuck of town because he was the only guy within fifty miles of Club Baby Seal without a drinking problem, and the inability to consume alcohol. Combination of meds and Type 1 diabetes sucked balls, but rather then getting tons of shit for being a tea-totaller faggot, he became the popular go-to guy for hauling drunk chicks home and going for booze and snack runs. He dropped the first pair of sloppy drunk chicks off at their house, having seen them safely inside. Drinking till your tipsy didn't always work well in combination to stairs.

Finally, his car empty, and reeking of booze and sluts, he headed back to Club Baby Seal without too much thought. He rather looked forward to getting to know Pickles' band mates better, and maybe getting their little group more involved with different people. Most of the friends at the Seal were involved in the music industry in one thing or another, some of them even producers and sound engineers. He was hoping he could introduce his friend Dick to them, but then again he heard from a few people that Dick got himself caught up in some fucked up shit and got hauled to jail again. This time it seemed for good, which kind of sucked, Dick had the magic ears after all for sound.

All seemed normal, that is until he got downstairs.

He found Pickles chugging a bottle of whiskey like it was grape juice, and mouthing off at anyone near by. Big Guy was sloshed all to fuck, having decided all on his own apparently to replace his tequila sunrise with straight up tequila. Jailbait and Blondie were making out like a couple of teenagers in the corner, both of them pretty sloshed by the look of the empty wine coolers, and a half-empty bottle of coconut flavored rum. And.. where in the name of Tim Gunn was the other guy? The bassist, if Cherry remembered rightly, the one with the adorable lisp and lime green eyes. He must have wandered off.. uh.. somewhere. Hopefully he was leaving the drunk girls alone, he didn't like having to pull the man away like that, but drunk was drunk, and drunk girls could get into trouble.

Shit, being DD might as well be babysitting.

"Yanno wot sounds fun, Nathan… fackn' DARTS, dood."

"Heh. Darts.."

"Yeah.. I think ol' whatshisnuts gots a game 'o' darts 'round 'ere sum where.." Pickles got up, sloshing whiskey down himself, and onto a pissed off looking blond wearing a white tee shirt.

"EEEY! WET TEE SHIRT CONTEST!" Pickles yelled, before dumping a nearby pitcher of lemonaid on the poor girl, soaking her thoughly

"Nice… tits.. yeah.." the lyricist agreed, smirking darkly

The DJ stopped what he was going to confront Pickles. Everyone in the Club stopped what they were doing, waiting. The tension was mounting as everyone waited with baited breath.

"I can't believe you assholes did that to Cheryl. What the fuck is wrong with you?!" the DJ yelled in this ear-raping nasily voice

"Heheh..just havin' fun there Pinocchio."

"You asshole guys are all the same. Think being in some shitty garage band makes you hot shit, and.."

"FACK YOU!" Pickles went to punch the kid in the nose, but the raven haired singer was faster, instead he grabbed a dart and threw it full force, dead center at the kid's face. Blood splattered everywhere, and the kid dropped like a rock.

Well, fack me up the ass wit no reach around.. this is not gonna be good.

"Oh my god.. is he dead?"

"No. One. Talks. Shit. ABOUT. MY. BAND. Like that." Nathan hissed in a deep death growl, glaring daggers at every one.

Some of the DJ kid's friends went to pick up the crumpled kid, and thankfully, the little shit was still alive, and was starting to cry like a little bitch, his pointy nose broken from the impact with the floor. Some of the bigger kids started to throw themselves at the singer in a pathetic attempt at revenge.

Nathan batted them away like butterflies, not hitting too hard, but enough to leave fine sprays of blood every where, and leave bruises on the tender-skinned kids. One of the kids got a few extra bruises as a reward for his tenacity, clinging on the singer's legs and trying to crawl his way up, using the other man's pants as leverage. He got the fuck beaten out of him then.

Nathan seemed pretty pissed off. The crowd was rapidly dispersing when a few burly guys came down from upstairs. This isn't going to end well.

Cherry decided it was a good time to haul the horny Scandinavians upstairs before things got too bad. He had been in enough fights to know how things usually ended up with glass and broken bottles behind the bar, and he certainly didn't want to see the two lovebirds get hurt. He hauled them up by the scruffs of their necks, ignoring their Nordic gibberish, and the blond man repeatedly slapping him as he stumbled into the redhead. Jailbait was crying a bit, and man, he felt like a total asshole at the moment.

He set his face, determined to get them up the stairs in one piece, even if he had to half-carry the scrawny kid up the stairs.

"De fucks.. whys.." Blondie tried to say as he was unceremoniously pushed into the now empty recliner, with Jailbait landing in a pile by his feet. "Whys joos dos dat, dildos asshole?!"

"Jus.. stay here, and like make out or .. fuck whatever. I dunna care.. jus' dun move from dis spot, eh?"

"Hehhh.. hes saids fucks.."

"hmm.. ja"

"Whatever.. just stay up here.."

Just as he was leaving the now totally engrossed in each other guitarists, there was a huge THUNK!

Then noise of slamming, bottles breaking, and some screaming.

Holy fuck balls.

People were pouring out of the basement, some sporting bruises, others black eyes. There was a lot of yelling, and things were blurring together as Cherry pushed upstream against the tide of people, desperate to get down to the basement.

There was broken bits of furniture, and the burly guys were trying to hold their own against Pickles, who was swinging that stupid angry-face plank thingie like it was some kind of sword. Nathan was pummeling the living fuck out of some guy, who was now curling into a ball, looking pathetic. Other guys were trying to hit off the raven haired man, who was steadfastly ignoring the other's kicks and punches.

"Fack you, fack you fack you!" Pickles was screaming, hitting the man on the floor with his wooden board. Each time, there was a sickening crack.

With a blur of green and red, Pickles was knocked off of the other man, the board flinging across the small living area, crashing against the DJ set up. Cherry had pinned Pickles down, using every bit of strength his lean frame possessed at the other yooper boy hissed and spat.

"lemme go, Fruitcake! Ca'mon.. ya facking bastard.. git off me!"

"CALM THE FUCK DOWN PICKLES!"

Nathan stopped beating his guy up, and grabbed the redheads ponytail, jerking him off his drummer.

Cherry tried grabbing his long ponytail back against those huge hands, only to be rewarded with several punches to his chin and sholders. He did what he hadn't done since he was a teenager. He started fighting like a bitch. He didn't have size, but he could fight like a very pissed off girl. He bit Nathan's hand with everything he had, feeling the skin break.

"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL!?"

"Lemme go!"

He was thrown against the wall, his head hitting hard.

FUCK FUCK FUCK!

He picked himself up, and ran head first into the big guy, knocking him down. He was straddling him now, and was taking the other man's blows to the stomach, coughing up blood. Not good.

He tried desperately to hold those brawny arms down, his fingers digging as hard as he could against the other man's milky white skin. He didn't care about leaving marks anymore. Fuck it.

"SNAP OUT OF IT!"

He was rewarded with a hit against the back with the wooden board, his skin tearing and blood splattering as a stray nail tore into him. That was it.

He pushed himself off the drunk singer, and stocked over to the drummer, and grabbed him by his dreadlocks, and pushed him against the wall.

"SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF IT {CENSORED}"

He shook the drummer again, repeating the man's true name, this time louder

"Ca'MON, { _} Snap out of it! Yer better den dis..{ _} "

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Pickles shoved back, but seemed to be coming out of his blood rage. He was still intoxicated all to fuck, and his nose was definitely broken, as well as his hand seemed a bit fucked up.

"Oh.. shit.. oh my gawd… "

"And there you are.. holy fuck, Pickles.." Cherry sagged against the other man "Your really, really too much when you git into whiskey.."

Nathan seemed to be snapping out of it too, but he was still way too drunk. He fell to the floor with a thud, and promptly started to throw up.

Cherry rolled the man over on his side and checked for any obstructions of the air way. He was now out cold. Great. Just great.

He noticed the bassist in the far corner, lounging casually on the loveseat, watching the drama unfold like it was an HBO special.

"Liddle help, 'ere..?"

"Nawsh.. yoursh finesh.." lime green eyes bored into his.

"I can't haul up 300 pounds of beefcake up the stairs.."

"Fine.. fuck this sschits." He slurred, and then got up, stowing his knife that he had been using to stab the armrest of the loveseat. He helped the redhead haul the slumped body of the singer up the stairs and out into Cherry's car, throwing him into the passenger seat. He was now covered in Explosion vomit, and his own blood. Great.

Next, the drunk guitarists. They stumbled down the winding sidewalk, and eagerly climbed into the back seat.

"Uh.. shit.. there is five of ya. .. um, Jailbait.. could ya.. yanno.. sit on Blondies lap for the way home?"

"Ja!" the kid giggled, pawing at the blond, who was smirking like a cat at a bowl of cream.

Okay. Good. Big guy passed out and it the passenger seat, the lovebirds in the back. Now Pickles. Fuck.

He found the other redhead in the basement, slumped at the bar, having helped himself to much more booze. His wrist was covered in bruises, and Cherry winced. Shit. The drummer's hands and arms were his life.

"Hey.. Ca'mon Pickles.." he gently shook him.

Pickles had passed out cold, but what was concerning was the blood coming from the nose. It wasn't stopping. Shit.

There was also faint lines of something nearby. Could be cocaine. Could be powdered sugar from cupcakes or was no way to tell, and he wasn't about to do a taste test.

He carried the drummer up the stairs, swearing and sweating the whole time, feeling like he was going to pass out. How did such a scrawny fucker weigh so much?

Okay. Pickles was in the back now, with William in the middle, and the horny guitarists in the other. Okay. Breathe. Fuck shit fuck cock, the cops were showing up. Shitaki mushroom fuck omelette.

Shit. Shit. So much shit.

Oh, thank god. . Officer Grey.. Thank you, God. If it was anyone else, he would be one blowjob away from being sold for a cigarette in prison, as well as the rest of the band. Never mind he didn't do jack shit.

"What the fuck is going on here, Seamus!? I was nearly done with my god damn shift, too, when Ricky and the guys call me up on my personal cell phone. Something about some death metal guys going apeshit.."

Officer Grey listened intently as the redhead stated everything. He naturally had to record every single detail, as well as get statements from all parties involved, and inventory of damages. It was going to be a long night. He let the redhead go, after getting contact information and a promise to personally pay for the damages, all in writing, of course.

Pulling into the dilapidated Mordhaus was like a beacon of hope.

He pulled all the members up the stairs, ignoring the various projectile vomit, and the cussing, swearing, slapping and whining along the way. The bassist proved himself fairly capable of handling Nathan, and muscling him into bed, before kicking a waste bucket his way so he wouldn't soil his room. The Scandinavians got poured into the bedroom with all white and blue, Cherry not caring to stick around too long the way they were pawing at each other. Fuck it, if Jailbait gets some, then good for him. He gave them a rubber, so no one could say he didn't try. For all he knew they were fucking all the time. Fuck.

Cherry slumped in after dropping the skill unconscious Pickles at the ER, signing all his damn paper work, answering tons of tedious questions, blah blah. God, Pickles better get him laid or some shit for all this. Fuck! And he wanted concert tickets to every fucking show, with a good view, but not front row because death metal had a bad habit of losing faces and limbs of the audience dumb enough to be too close to the stage.

He finally flung himself on the sofa. Thank god.

William sat down next to him, eying his bright pink bandages.

"Yousch got beat up pretty good.." he said softly, lime green eyes flickering over the bruises.

"Ya.. I don't think I'm going to be doing that ever again" Cherry laughed, leaning back against the sofa, brushing against the other slightly without realizing it.

"Yousch weresh cool backsh there"

"Thanks.. "

"You know.. " the bassist leaned it "Your kinda pretty.."

"Thanks?"

Before Cherry knew it, the bassist crushed his lips against his, and was fisting a hand into his long red hair. William tasted like beer and salt, but that was pretty hot in its own way. Cherry decided that he was right about the older brunet.

Bring it on, he loved butch men.

He fought with his tongue against the older man's and it felt _good_. The tugging at his hair was a mix of painful and pleasurable. The other man was really getting into it, French kissing the Irishman for all he was worth. He kept a firm hold on him and was starting to grind against the younger man, taking control of the situation.

This was too good. Maybe Pickles wouldn't need to set him up after all.

When he felt the Irishman's wood, though, the bassist started to come to his senses. Lime green eyes stared into soft hazel, clouded with lust. The sparkle died a little as the redhead rubbed against the older man.

Oh, crap. He's seen that look before.

The brunet pulled away, looking down at the redhead in sudden contempt, even as his lips were swollen from the Irishman's kisses.

"Oh.. gawdsh... whatsch the fuchsk whash I doingsh..." the bassist muttered, hands grasping his hair in painful fists

"Ah... um... you alrite thar..?"

"NO! GAWDSH! WHAT THE FUCKSH!" He spat

"Hey, now.. yer da one kissin' me.. not like I mind.."

"IM NOT GAY! YOUSH... justsh lookish likesh a girlsh.. all dat long hairsh.. and skinny armsh.. and .. nice face.. I"M NOT GAY! YOUR THE GAY ONE!"

"Hey.. we can jus-"

William hauled off and punched the redhead in the face, square on the jaw, then bolted like a scared deer into the kitchen in desperate search of more booze. He started downing vodka like it was an antidote to gay-ness.

"Im.. goinghsh to bed… alonesh…" William wailed, stumbling into the wall.

Cherry couldn't help bit grin, as blood trickled down his face. Maybe this one might be a lot of fun.

A/N : Sorry about the little bit of Gary Stu-ness. I figured I needed to torment Murderface a bit, and give him a real reason to question himself. I really couldn't help myself. Don't worry, I don't plan on going all Gary-Stu or Mary Sue on you guys. I don't do that shit. Just tormenting the bassist, and its all in good fun.


	14. Horror Films and Loveseats

Authors Notes: Do not own Dethklok. Also, as it's Dethklok, they are rude, crude, they swear, and they mention sex and human anatomy parts. That is why it's rated M.

The band had only a few days to go before the big recording date, and everyone was winding down from the brutal non-stop rehearsing. The exhausted band was clustered around the new TV, watching some gory horror film Nathan picked up from the library. The lyrist was quite surprised such a place would carry something like this, but Pearl from the library pointed out all their DVD's were donated to the library, so they had quite a stock of horror films, though few block-buster types.

Pickles, Murderface and Nathan were stretched out comfortably on the comfy new sofa, the singer was sprawled out in his black flannel pajamas and a Cannibal Corpse tee shirt, his black-socked feet propped up on the artistically morbid coffee table, a big bag of name-brand chips resting on his stomach. Pickles was comfy, limbs akimbo, like an octopus in his Lucky Charm sleep pants, and was happily munching away on a bag of cheese curls. The bassist was finally able to spread his legs out (seriously, any farther and the band could accuse him of practicing yoga) looking very smug his confederate flag boxers and stained wifebeater, thoughtfully snacking his way through a jumbo bag of beef jerky.

Toki and Skwisgaar sat nestled together in the new, plush loveseat, their slender legs touching each other slightly. They had finally gotten their own spot to themselves, and Toki no longer had to sit on the floor by everyone's legs. Part of Skwisgaar missed that arrangement, because then he could touch Toki's silky chestnut hair when the others went to take a pee break. But this arrangement was so much better, as the loveseat only fit two, and as it was very oversized and plush, it was perfect for snuggling together. Toki was holding on to a plump blood-red pillow for dear life (he didn't want to be made fun again for having Deddy in the living room) as the horror movie played on.

Since their drunken bender a week ago, Mordhaus had gotten a complete overhaul by Cherry and his "merry men"-a group of half-starved art students and music majors that swarmed the Haus for two days. When the horde left ,Mordhaus sparkling and looking downright brutal. That flamboyant group did a outstanding job of making the atmosphere brooding, artistic and brutal as hell. The lyricist was downright impressed; he could finally relax and _think_ at Mordhaus now. The living room and the singers bedroom got the most work. The carpet was steam cleaned by professionals and a huge black fuzzy rug was set down. The semen and vomit encrusted sofa was replaced with a oversized dark smoke grey sofa and loveseat set with a subtle black, blue and red flecks of color in it, set in a L arrangement, with the long side along the main wall. The guitarists loveseat was on the wall by the door, settled against the window, which was draped in some soft, subtly textured silver raw silk curtains held back by blood-red and black cords.

The walls had gotten some treatment, (turns out vomit _can_ stain) , painted in a soft, melancholy blue-grey, like the sky before the rain. Artistic black giant tentacle wall decals crawled up the wall where the new, though modest sized flat screen TV sat on its minimalist black and grey-glass stand. Said stand perfectly matched their new oversized square shadow-box coffee table-it being filled an artistically brutal collection of black shark teeth ranging in size from itty bitty to fucking huge. The furniture itself wasn't brand-spanking new, but instead from some hoity-toity bohemian second hand shop, much like the rest of the items in the Haus. They also had art hanging on the walls- brutally abstract things heavy in paint smears in black and red, done by some of the merry men themselves on commission from the gay redhead. The only things that were really brand-new-new were the wall decals, and some kitchen items.

The kitchen had been taken over by a culinary exchange student by the name of Jean-Pierre, who went on a hell-bent shopping spree through a Whole Food store (gay redhead in tow) , and restocked the cabinets and refrigerator to bursting. Soggy, floppy green onions and gut-rot cans of cheap beer was exchanged for farm-fresh eggs, Gouda cheese, green peppers, humus (which, the lyrist was really fond of, though he hated to admit it) and various other healthy, nutritious items. The alcohol was replaced with good-quality hard liquors and various mixers, as well as some retro-cool sodas in various exotic flavors in slim glass bottles for the Norwegian teen.

Mordhaus now had a supply of decent food, and copious amounts of snacks, after the Tomahawk native had a tantrum over the lack of junk food. The top of the new coffee table was currently loaded down with an assortment of various snacks and junk food, ranging from small black bowl of Swedish Fish, giant bowls of nachos with a container of Jean-Pierre's soon-to-be-famous nacho dip, and a modestly sized cheese and cracker tray. Another bowl of Hot Tamales candies sat close to the bassist. A batch of freshly made cinnamon buns was also set down by the creepily grinning Frenchmen before he left with the rest of Cherry's merry men. Before flouncing off, Cherry handed over a small bundle of envelopes from Pickle's brother Seth, who was currently in prison.

"Wowee.." Toki exclaimed in surprise, jerking suddenly as a masked man popped out on the screen, his chainsaw slicing a ladies head off.

"Pfftt. Dildos." Skwisgaar snorted.

In the darkness of the living room, with the only source of illumination coming from the TV, Skwisgaar snuck his hand between their legs, and rubbed the back of his hand minutely against the side of the Norwegian's slender leg. The other teen got the hint and slipped his hand down, intertwining his callused fingers together with his, and snuck a look sideways at the blond.

Sapphire blue eyes collided with pale topaz blue for a second, as Skwisgaar rubbed his thumb softly against the other's hand. Full lips quirked up slightly, and his eyebrow arched up, as if to say "I want you"

Toki nervously licked his lips, aware that he had the Swede's full attention. He tried flicking them back to the TV as random victims started screaming, but he frankly lost interest in the stupid movie. He was more interested in the way the blond's slender fingers were interlaced with his thicker, more stubbly ones, on how the man was tracing small ,slow circles against his skin, and was seeming to press slightly into his shoulder more.

He shot the other three a cautious glance, but they were too enthralled of the movie and their snacks to really give two shits.

"_wish we was alones.."_ Toki whispered in Norwegian.

Pickles flicked his luminous emerald green eyes their way, which Skwisgaar covered smoothly with "Don'ts bes criesbabies at the cry-babies house.. dat man amnest reals.. hes made-bees-leafs." Which he forced out a laugh for the benefit of the other men on the couch near them.

"_I do too, Toki.." _ Skwisgaar groaned, tightening his grip on the teen's hand, and moved his socked foot a tiny faction so he could lightly rub against the Norwegian's stupid little Batman socks.

Toki wiggled his foot back ever so slightly. Getting to touch any piece of the lead guitarist was wonderful. Finally, though he had to break contact as his strawberry soda binge was sneaking up on him, and man, he had to pee like a race horse. He got up, ignoring the protests as he crossed in front of the TV, and went to the bathroom. Once he was done, he found Skwisgaar waiting for him in the dark hallway, who merely grabbed him by his shirt, and crushed his lips against the Norwegian's in a brutal kiss. The blond pushed Toki against a small portion of the wall that was out of sight from the others, and rubbed against him, planting kisses along the sensitive neckline. He pulled away with much difficulty, and then , his lips still slightly swollen from kisses , turned his face towards the living room and with a grin

"GODS DAMNS IT TOKIS! Jason amnest nots reals! Hes wonts gets little dildo babies likes joos! Don'ts be such a scared cats!"

He jerked his head towards the living room, and Toki beamed, picking up on what the lead guitarist was trying to do.

"I AMEST NOT A DILDOS BABIES! "

They locked lips again, rubbing each other's erections together for a minute while Skwisgaar continued to "yell" at Toki. It took everything the Nord had in him to respond so angrily to someone he was grinding and passionately making out with.

"YOUS A LADIES SKWISGAAR!" Toki blurted out after the blond nipped at the bottom of his lip, trying stupidly to come to any kind of retort to the gibberish the Swede was spewing.

Skwisgaar grinned evilly as he started shouting angrily in Swedish "_You are such a sexy little slut, I just want to fuck you through this wall.."_

Toki's eyes widened as he realized that none of the Americans could understand them anyway, so he decided to respond back in Norwegian _" God, just do it already! .."_ he growled loudly, as Skwisgaar nibbled at his neck.

"_You filthy little Norwegian.." _Skwisgaar yelled as he ground his hips into the teen.

Skwisgaar pulled a face at Toki before locking himself in the bathroom, presumably to "scratch one out" as the lyricst put the term for jacking off. "Happy Fun Time" was the drummer's favorite term that he used with his sloppy half-grin. Toki much preferred the term "happy fun time" himself.

Toki settled back down in his spot, which was closest to a small black end-table with a black dragon lamp on it. He had picked that spot because he had a handy light source for reading, plus he could set his sodas down on it. Speaking of soda and snacks, Toki got up to grab a few handfuls of nachos, before spooning some more dip onto his plate, ignoring Murderface's swearing as he was blocking the TV yet again.

"Godsh damnsh it Tokish! Getsh outh of the waysh! SHEESH!"

"Sorries.." Toki muttered, grabbing a few fistfuls of raspberry-flavored fish gummies.

"Eh.. leave'em alone.. poor fackers goin' thru a growth spurt, yanno… dats why 'es eatin' like a horse.." Pickles chuckled over his fancy-pants fruity cocktail ( the Frenchmen had taken great pains to show the redhead drummer how to make the perfect Mai Tai). "Eidder dat, or he's pregnant.."

Toki turned red, and stared wide-eyed at the drummer.

"Eh, Skwisgaard! You knock up Toki?" the drummer called out loudly over the screaming coming from the TV.

"Whats? Tokis ams a mans, stupids Americans re-tards. " the Swede scowled as he came out of the bathroom "Besides joos needs de secks fors de babies..I knows.. I haz many babies.." He grinned, smug in the knowledge that he had fathered literally hundreds of half-Swedish children, strewn about in every city he ever visited. Being the God of Fuck also went hand-in-hand with being a Fertility God. Part of him was perversely convinced if he so willed it, he probably could knock just about anybody up.

"Itsh a miracles then.." the bassist nodded sagely at the rhythm guitarist, who was looking down at his plate of food, embarrassed. At dinner he had gone through three helpings of dinner, and frankly, he was still starving. "the virginsh births.."

"I dunno…" Pickles started, giving the blond a knowing sideways look. The lead guitarist felt his cheeks on fire. Sure, they hadn't done anything .. but..

"Dudes… like.. shut the hell up.." Nathan grumbled in between bites of his potato chips "Tryin' to watch this."

Skwisgaar settled back down, hands back between them, fingers intertwining again. Every so often, Toki or Skwisgaar would nudge their feet together, just bare touches, or adjust their long legs so they brushed each other. Skwisgaar unlaced his fingers for a bit, and wiped them down on his jeans, not carring too much. He then lazily set it on the Norwegian's bony knee cap, and focused hard on the stupid gory horror flick.

He could feel the teen shift slightly beside him, and with a quick glance at the sofa, assure that yes, they weren't paying attention. He slid it slightly higher up his thin legs, not too much, just maybe four finger lengths. He left it there for a while, enjoying his rhythm counterparts subtle shifting, before edging it up a fraction of an inch.

Pickles got up to fix himself another fancy-pant Mai Tai, and Nathan paused the movie so he could go take a piss. It was decided to stop for a little bit for refills and what have you, when Skwisgaar decided to make his move in the dimly lit living room. The dark blue light from the TV, and the tiny pin-hole lights from the new Scentsy ,which, despite that band's misgivings, was pretty fucking brutal looking, and it made their apartment smell manly and nice.

Skwisgaar slid his hands further, before dipping down those slender thighs. He wasn't about to touch the Norwegian wood, but skirted around it slightly. He knew he was being a tease, but Toki needed to be punished for messing up the last song earlier . His long fingertips danced from the sensitive inside thigh area to the other leg, then made a lazy arch around to the top of the soft fleece fabric pajama bottoms, before slipping in under the teen's shirt, skirting up a few inches of exposed skin, before dancing down again to tug the shirt down.

Skwisgaar smirked as Toki sucked in his breath, making a tiny pathetic mewing noise, canting his hips subtly, trying to get the damn Swede to touch him.

"Shh.." the Swede chuckled, pulling his hand away to ghost over the teens lips. Another glance at the kitchen proved that everyone was too busy, thankfully. He pressed his index finger against those adorable thin lips, before carefully sliding a digit in, which the Norwegian playfully sucked and caressed with his tongue. The blond chuckled very softly, a baritone rumble as he added his middle finger to it. Now the nasty little Nord was twirling his hot little tongue around it, and Skwisgaar started to gently thrust his long fingers in to that mouth in mimicry of the real thing. But, all things had to end, and he pulled his fingers away quickly, leaving Toki open-mouthed, and flushed, his eyes heavily lidded. It was a good look on him, and he couldn't wait to get the kid on his knees.

The credits started to roll, and Nathan stuck in another stupid B-Grade horror flick , this one being from the 80's. The story was forgettable, the monster was horribly fake and cheesy, and the acting was sloppy. The heroines only redeeming factor is that she spent the entire movie braless, and apparently very cold, her tiny nipples hard as diamonds in her crappy silver spandex body suit. Skwisgaar was too busy tormenting Toki to really give too shits about it, as he focused on teasing. He kept tracing the long line of Toki's jean clad legs, from the knee to the hip, then back down. Sometimes he would dip towards the inside thigh, but never get close to the throbbing bulge, despite Toki's best efforts of guiding the lead's hands to his crotch. It just wasn't enough.

Every time Toki tried to return the favor to Skwisgaar, he found his hand firmly guided back down.

The movie was at it's dramatic climax as fake blood and guts were splattering everywhere while the alien monster-thing was rolling around with the spandex-clad babe, ripping statically-placed chucks of her costume off.

"YESH! Lets schee schome titsch!"

"Man, if this was made in Japan, there would HAVE ta be sum tentacle porn in dis!" Pickles chortled.

"Tentacles? WHATCH the fucksh?"

"ya, dood.. like, tentacle porn is like .. yanno.. older den electricity an' shit.." Pickles pointed out as he leaned over to grab a handful of candy.

"Weirdsh.." The bassist mumbled "the Japanesesh are freaks.. I heard they have vending machines-yeah! Vending machines that dispense used panties. Pop in some money, click, panties! Itsch all very highsh techsh."

"Why.. on earth, would anyone want _used_ panties?" Nathan pointed out, pausing from his chip fetish.

"To sniff them while your tugging at the ol' meat stick.."Murderface pointed out crudely, motioning jacking off.

"Gross! I don't want anything more to do with pussies then I _have_ to..oh, God.. I mean.. ugh.."

"Dey are kinda gross, Chief"

"Thatcsh soundsh schoo gay.. don't like pussies..whatch kind of man doesn't like a nicech wetsh pussy? "

"I'm not gay, there just.. ugh.. weird looking, and okay! They smell weird! I don't like it! I just want to pull out my dick, stick it in, then just be done with it. I don't even think they look that great-mostly like some vertical chewed up gum- lips.. eughhhgh..I don't like it when there always like trying to… ughhh.. you know… " the lyrist nodded down, watching the horrified expression of his band mates, except for Skwisgaar, and Toki (who had no clue what they were talking about).

"Ja.. but de goils always tinks joos de bestest if joo goes down on dem.. or at least.." Skwisgaar started, then wiggled his fingers suggestively as Toki glared at him.

" I hate when ya git a girl that's all fackn' loose.. its like throwin' a fackin' hotdog down a hallway.. half da time, all ya git is AIR, man.. keep slippin' out.. ruins da mood! I mean how loose ya gotta be if my fackn' Irish cack won't stay in.. fack, dood.. I think I have more fun if I jus' stick my dick out the window when were goin' down da highway… "

Nathan grunted "Yeah.. hate sloppy sluts.. like.. science has all sorts of shit, right?" he said slowly, munching on the last remaining chips like they were made of gold dust.

"Wellsh, yeash…"

"Well.. like, they can cure all sorts of shit..right? So.. shouldn't they have some shit to make like pussies tigher? Like, it could be like a fucking tune up or some shit."

"Ya, dood.. like every thousand lays, she jus' takes her pussy in for a tune up.."

"A pushiesh tuneshupsh.."

"Hahah.. tunes-ups.." Skwisgaar snickered

"Yeah, they just go in, zap a few things, then bam! Tight as a virgin.. I mean, what guy doesn't like a tight pussy?"

"Me.." Toki chirped, then winced when everyone stared at him like he grew an extra head.

"Dood.. Toki.. you'll git da girls later on.. ya gotta give it time dats all.."

"I think.. like, violence would go down from that." Nathan said seriously, picking up chip crumbles from the bottom of the bag. "The worlds' problems… saved by.. like, tight pussies around the world.."

"Whysh wouldsh we fighsh? Whatsch the point f warsh if every bitchsh has a tight snatchs?"

"Ja.. I wouldsn'ts be wanderinks abouts fors some-thinks to sticks mine dicks in ifs its weres tights enoughs… I mean.. why wastes de time wit' de "hellows.." and de stupids compl-mentals , den stupiids four planks if I has tights holes all too mine selfs?"

He snuck a quick peek at Toki, a tiny smiling tugging on the corner of his lips.

"I KNOW!" Nathan bellowed, crumpling up his now perfectly empty chip bag

"Dood.. simmer down, eh?"

"Like.. what if they had.. like fake pussies.."

"Uh.. Nat'an.. dey do.. thar called 'pocket pussies'..heheh..… ya serious-ley never 'eard of 'em?"

"what.. no! So.. like someone already came up with that idea!? God, that was a fucking good idea too.."

"Yesh.. schoo.. wheresh wouldsh yoush gets schomethingsh like that..?"

"Ya jus' go down to the adult store .. there like, five of em adult stores, most of em are regular , but ones all weird an' kinky an' shit. Or just git one , rilly .I dunno"

Toki felt himself going red in the ears. He had absolutely no clue what they were talking about, and found it kind of embarrassing.

"Heh.. yanoo.. we should , like take Toki with us next time we go. Might be educational.."

"Uh.. Pickles, dude.. the kid is sixteen. This state you have to be at least eighteen before you can go. They card you and everything!" Nathan grumbled, remembering the first time he attempted to go in one, he was seventeen and .. yeah. He got busted, didn't get into trouble, the owner just said no, and to come back in a year. He had been too embarrassed to, though.

"Sexch educationsh is good for a boysh." Murderface said wistfully.

"I hated it, dunno what yer talkin' about" Pickles shuddered "All about not havin' babies, and women's.. ugh.. periods, and shit like that.. den, den.. yanno wot dey did? Eh? Dey made us.. watch.."

"Watcsch whatsch?"

"A.. baby bein' born.. all bloody and purple..ugh..Fack dat shit dood. Fack it. Sex for recreation is fer Catholics and weirdos.. I dunna wan' ta have kids, ever.. dats why I'm in a band an' not sum regular jackoff."

Toki felt sick to his stomach listening to this. He still had only the vaguest notions on sex, babies, and everything. His parents, in what little of the world they had taught him, merely told him sex was for making babies only, when you were married. That was the end of it. He didn't get any talks about pubic hair, or why he sometimes got hard first thing in the morning, or why his voice was cracking so much. His body was always this ungainly, wieldy thing and he felt like his feet and hands were impossibly too big for the rest of him. He couldn't really imagine himself having sex, unless maybe with Skwisgaar , but he had a slight notion where things might go, which involved his ass. And that sounded really painful. He had no idea how that was going to ever work.

He went red as a tomato, and noticed the room was dead silent.

"Oh, looks..littles Tokis scareds about where de babies comes froms." Skwisgaar snickered, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't worries, Tokis.. only de goils haz de babies.."

"Ya alright, thar, kiddo? Your red as a tomato.."

"Wait, guys.." Nathan leaned in, and said in a dead serious tone "What if.. " he lowered his voice "Toki doesn't know about.. you know.. the birds and the bees?" he whispered the last part

"Oh.. _mama_.."

"I don'ts knows about de birdies and de bees, buts I knows babies are what am from de sex when joos marrieds to a goil.." Toki spat out, trying to prove that he did know about sex

"There is so much more to sex then making babies.." Nathan pointed out, fishing a cinnamon from Pickles snack pile

"Ya.. like, sex for babies is married people shit that regular jackoffs do. There is like a ton more.. " Pickles said after he finished his forth Mai Tai. He made a sloppy humping motion with his hips and laughed, his dreadlocks bouncing everywhere. "Ding Dong Doodily Doodily doo.. "

"Maybess I takes Littles Tokis under mine flippers, ja? Shows him what ams de secks?" Skwisgaar stated, leaning back into the loveseat, arms crossed, the perfect picture of bored.

"Maybe.. you are kinda a man whore."

"Ja, we ams from sames areas, wes under-stands each odders best, ja?"

"this all sounds really, really gay." Nathan muttered as he stood up to stretch, dusting bits of crumpled potato chip dust off himself. "Whatever, I'm going to bed.."

"Ya.. man, its like.. four in da mornin' now.. da fack.. whatever." Pickles stretched as he got up before shuffling off to bed.

Murderface followed suit, leaving the Scandiavians alone, though Skwisgaar had gotten up in a show of going to bed.

He waited until Murderface slammed his bedroom door before whispering to the Norwegian "_Waits for me for a little bit.."_

"_Okays.."_

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

Toki crawled into his bed, trembling with excitement. He was very nervous, but also tired, and he found himself drifting off to sleep, only to be woken by large, slender hands shaking him gently. His eyes fluttered open and he saw the Swede leaning over, his golden hair forming a curtain around their faces.

"Toki" Skwisgaar breathed, kissing the teens forehead with his full, plump lips.

The Norwegian leaned up to capture the Swede's lips with his own, letting out a soft mew of pleasure.

"_Gods.. Toki_.." he breathed shakily, tracing a calloused thumb over the kid's sharp cheekbones, before trailing kisses along his face. Trails of soft, hungry kisses ran down the Norwegian's throat,and to the collar of the baggy SnB shirt he was wearing. Skwisgaar plucked at the fabric, amused.

"_Too much clothes on.. " _Skwisgaar pulled a face before shrugging out of his tank top, then tugging at Toki's threadbare one.

Toki sleepily complied, before nuzzling into Skwisgaar's bare chest. He ran his hands up the taller man's back, loving how smooth his skin felt. He was suddenly embarrassed of his scars, he knew it looked ugly.

Skwisgaar rained little kisses on the top of Tokis' head, wrapping his long thin arms around the teen. He lightly rubbed his back, careful around some of the newer scars that were still raised up against the velvety skin. He nibbled at the Norwegian's neck, earning some gasps from the pleasure-pain of it. He licked his little bite marks as he snuck a free hand under the boy's silly sky-blue with fluffy cloud pajama pants. He cupped his firm, yet soft ass , kneading it with the entirety of his hands as Toki mewed, grinding desperately into the taller man.

Toki tried kissing up the Swede's chest, and cautiously planted a tiny love-bite, causing Skwisgaar to groan. Toki liked how it felt to rake his teeth over the velvet skin, and started to bite a little harder just under the collar bone, near the shoulder. It felt so good, getting bit, and biting. He licked over the bite marks each time, soothing it.

Skwisgaar let out a soft groan as he pushed Toki back against the bed, causing him to tumble backwards onto the lumpy mattress, the bed creaking in protest.

Toki was practically purring underneath the older man, and was rubbing himself wantonly against the man's hips, his smaller hands roaming over the pale alabaster skin hungrily. Skwisgaar distracted Toki by kissing the underside of his jaw as he eased his body weight off the teen. He tugged the sleep pants and striped briefs down, freeing the Norwegian's straining member.

Skwisgaar lowered his head, his golden hair spilling in a waterfall over the tan skin of the Nord. The silky strands were tickling and tormenting Toki to no end, as the lead guitarist licked the sensitive underside of his cock, from base to flared tip.

"Nnnahhhnn…"

"Relaxs.."

Skwisgaar kissed the very head of the thick, swollen head, before relaxing his mouth and slowly engulfing him right down to the base. He pulled away just as the rhythm guitarist tried to buck his hips. He decided to rest a firm hand down on a slender, bony hip, pinning the teen to the bed, while the other hand gently cupped the heavy balls. The skin felt impossibly velvety, the hair soft and downy as kitten fur, something that the normally sex-jaded Swede noticed right away. He moved his hand lover slightly, his fingers trailing down to the sensitive sunburst of flesh.

Toki bucked up against Skwisgaar, despite the hand at the teen's hip, almost throat fucking the lead guitarist as he gently brushed against the teen's virgin opening.

Skwisgaar pulled his hand away slightly to wet it in his mouth, then returned to gently probe. Toki was caught between wanting to choke the blond man on his cock, and impalling himself on that delicately nudging finger.

"Gods.. Skwis."

"Hmmm?" Skwisgaar hummed, amused, around the Norwegian's thick member, sending waves of pleasure through him.

"_Please_!" Toki sobbed, trying to buck his hips against that finger, which steadfastly wasn't penetrating at all, merely strocking and pressing

Skwisgaar re-slicked his finger, a warm smile crossing his elfin face as he re-settled himself between the teen's wide-spread legs. He probed with care, getting it in to the first knuckle as the teen clenched down on his didgit.

"_Fucks. That's.. ohh_.."

Encouraged, the older man pressed a tiny bit deeper, then starting pulling out tiny bit, to thrust back in.

Toki was biting his lip so hard, he drew blood. His fingers danced across the older man's shoulders, clenching down at anything, before flailing down to rip at the sheets as Skwisgaar worked his finger in to the base, before adding a second. Toki hissed a bit with pain, but then he felt like his pelvic wall was going to implode, and with a muffled cry of a wounded animal, he spilled his hot seed into the greedy mouth of the Swedish guitarist, who hungrily swallowed it.

Skwisgaar slowed his ministrations at the boy's opening, before slowly pulling out, wincing a bit at the hiss of pain for the teen. He kept his mouth on his young lover, letting him come down little bit by little bit.

Toki looked up at him with lust-blown pupils, his face glistening with a thin sheen of sweat as he breathed heavily. His lips were swollen, and his face was flushed. He sat up and looked at the taller man through the curtain of his chestnut locks. He looked sleepy and content .

He reached a hand out to stroke the bulge in the Swedish man's jeans. Skwisgaar stopped him, with a soft smile illuminated by the warm red light of the lava lamp.

"_Its okay_…"

"_Buts.."_

"_You don't have to.. "_

"_I want to though.."_

"_Come here, Little Toki.."_ Skwisgaar climbed into the horribly cramped bed, spooning the younger man under the covers and burying his face in the other's strawberry scented hair.

"But, what about you? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Pfftt.. dildos.. of course, it's uncomfortable."

" _Then why won't you let Toki touch you_?" the Norwegian shifted to snuggle his back closer to the blond man's chest.

"_Because.. if you touch me, then I might_.." Skwisgaar groaned _"get carried away. And that just can't happen right now."_

"_Why?"_

"_I .. cares about you, you stupid dildo. I haven't cared about anybody's before and I don't want to fuck things up because I get carried away."_

"_But you won't get carried aways"_

"_I.. just… I don't know.." _

"… _what?"_

"_I.." _Skwisgaar buried his face in silky chestnut hair, and mumbled something inchoherant to the sleepy Norwegian.

"_What did you say, Skwisgaar?"_

"_Nothing! I.. just.. shut up and go to sleep Toki."_

"_No, what did you say?"_

"_I said 'Shut up and go to sleep Toki'"_

Skwisgaar waited until Toki started to drift off, his breathing deep and even, before he pulled himself away. He stood at the door, and looked at the peacefully sleeping teen , and muttered "_I thinks I love you, stupid dildo.." _ before shutting the door softly.

Toki smiled in his sleep.


	15. Stories for A Rainy Day

Authors Note: Do not own Dethklok. Sorry for the delay in this chapter.

It was a dreary rainy day over Mordhaus, and the tension was high for the members of Dethklok. There was only one day left before the big recording day. All the various paperwork had been filled out, everything was in order and ready to go. Skwisgaar had checked over his Explorer, and Toki's Flying V for tune and made any adjustments. Nathan had the lyrics perfected a thousand times over.

All there was to do now is wait for tomarrow.

The band had retired to their respective rooms, save for the Scandinavians, who were holed up in the lead guitarist's bedroom. Toki sat on the floor with his back against the bed, as Skwsigaar perched on the bed beside him, his slender fingers flying over the cords silently.

Rain pelted against the window and the world was washed a melancholy grey. They sky was looming heavily and every now and then thunder rumbled overhead.

The Norwegian leaned his head back, closing his eyes at the sound. He imagined the lead guitarist's heart beat would sound loud and comforting like the thunder.

"Heys, Toki?" Skwisgaar murmered, his golden hair a veil over his face

"Ja?"

"_How did you end up all the way here by yourself?"_

"_That's.. kind of a long story."_

Skwisgaar set down his beloved guitar, and looked down at the other guitarist. He had known Toki for awhile now, nearly 3 months now. But he didn't know much about the strange Flying-V toting kid.

"_I don't care, what else is there to do? Watch stupid documentary on dildos American history with Moidarface? Drink yourself to death with Pickle?" _

"_Skwisgaar.." _Toki sighed, locking his gray-blue eyes to Skwisgaar's deeper blue

The blond man shifted slightly, so he was reclining on his back on his bed, and his long arms could stretch to his side and pet the Nord's head from his position. He trailed his fingertips through soft caramel colored hair. It was now brushing the teen's widening shoulders, the layers growing out perfectly.

"_Toki, you can trust me, ja_?"

"_I do, Skwisgaar."_

The Swede trailed small circles on the boy's scalp, waiting for Toki to get up the nerve to speak.

A few minutes passed of Skwisgaar gently playing with the boy's caramel locks before Toki finally spoke up.

"_My life was very hard when I growing up. I would have to do lots of chores, and it was hard sometimes. I would have to go and sweep the snow." _Toki began, twisting a lock of his hair and staring off at the wall.

Skwisgaar didn't say anything, just continued to pet Toki's hair.

"_I was so little, but I had to chop fire wood by myself. It was very hard. I had to haul everything from great distances into a pile, then stack it just so. Father was very strict- every log had to symmetrically stacked, and if one was just out of place, I would have to undo the whole pile."_

"_Oh, Toki.." _

"_It was so cold, all the time. Nothing but snow. I was always so cold-my parents only gave me a set of clothes-two pairs of shorts, two tee shirts, two underwear, one pair of shoes. That was all I had. No coat, no hat, no gloves. I was always so cold.I hate the cold.."_

"_They let you go outside without a coat?!"_

"_Ja-even worse. I would mess up, sometimes. I would fall asleep in the snow while sweeping, or break Mother's cup, and get punished."_

"_Odin.."_ Skwisgaar breathed, sitting up on one elbow to better see Toki

"_They," _Toki gulped back a sob "_would strip be down to my shorts, and whip me while I kneeled in the snow. After that, they would throw me down into the Punishment Hole."_

Tears were flowing freely now, and Skwisgaar was rubbing slow reassuring circles against the boy's back as he leaned down over the boy from his perch.

The rain contuined to pour outside, and Mordhaus was eerily quiet.

"_My parents were..very religious. They thought I was evil, that I was this "bringer of death"."_ Toki breathed out shakily , blinking back tears " _I think that is why they always made me do things. I think they hoped I would die, out there in the snow. They….chained me up and left me for a week once, without food. I was so scared. I wanted to die. "_

Skwisgaar slid down from his spot on the bed to slip behind Toki, enveloping him in his long limbs. Toki brought his knees up to his chest, and was sobbing quietly into the blond's slender arm. Skwisgaar nuzzled against Toki's slender neck before planting soft kisses along it.

" _The worst part of the beatings is what they would say to me. They would quote the Bible while beating me, saying I was a demon child, how I deserved this. I was so little. I was just a little kid. It was horrible. My father, he.. he said I deserved everything. Because I am the Death Bringer. How can I be something like that? I am just Toki. The bad thing is, I started to believe them. Maybe I __did__ deserve it. " _Toki murmered sadly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, twisting it then untwisting it.

"_Shh. Little Toki. It's ok." _Skwisgaar crooned softly into the delecate shell of the Norwegian's ear.

The blond rubbed his large hands along the slender teens limbs, comforting .

"_Then as I got older, I started to see more of the outside world. I heard metal music for the very first time when I went to Lillehammer for supplies. You know that Lillehammer actually has a metal shop? "_

"_No, I didn't know that."_

"_Yeah. The guy that runs the place is pretty weird, but nice. He would sometimes give me old CD's, or make copies of CD's for me to listen to. He even gave me an old portable CD player so I can listen to my music without my parents knowing. It was the greatest thing in the world. Suddenly, I was really happy." _Toki smiled sadly

Skwisgaar nuzzled tenderly as he listened.

"_It didn't matter that the snow was falling. It didn't matter that I was so bitterly cold. In fact, the music made it… perfect. The high flying notes of the guitar, the death growl of the singer, the blast of the drums, everything is perfect with that music. Nothing mattered more to me then that sound. I should have known it was too good to be true."_

' _I was chopping wood, and I went further then I normally walk so I could listen to my newest Cannibal Corpse CD, and.. that was when my dad caught me. I … Odin..it was bad. Very bad. He dug up my room for every single piece of metal music, and made me gather it up. I had to put it on top of a pile of wood and set it on fire."_

"_No! He didn't!" _Skwisgaar hissed, horrified

"_Yes, he even made me set my Flying V near the pile. The owner of the Metal shop gave it to me a week before that. I used to practice with it whenever I went to town for supplies. He said I was really good, and that no one else in Lillehammer would appreciate it, even if I didn't have an amp, or electricity in my house to run an amp. "_ Toki laughed shakily

"_I couldn't let him burn my Flying V. Not that. So, he gave me a choice. My guitar for all my music, all my belongings, and my silence."_

"_Your silence?"_

"_I had to withstand his beatings without making a single sound."_

"_Toki… oh, Toki"_

"_He beat me like he was trying to kill me. Tormenting me, saying "Scream!" and things like that. I couldn't. Mother was going to feed my guitar to the flames if I did. Or if I passed out again."_

"_After he was done, he kicked in my ribs, and rolled me over until I fell into the punishment hole. I swore I broke a few things, but.. then they threw my guitar down. She broke some of her strings, and her beautiful paint was trashed. But thankfully, she was alright. After seeing her drop like that, I decided that if I stayed, they were just going to kill me anyways and burn my guitar. So, I climbed out of the hole when the moon was up, and I left towards Lillehammer."_

"_Some people in Lillehammer helped me. The death metal shop owner, and a few others scraped up enough money for me. The man who ran the butcher's shop needed to go to Oslo for a few things, and gave me a ride all the way there. He was really kind. The whole community knew about my father, but.. the butcher man said that everyone was scared. Things happen around my father's church that couldn't be properly explained. He told me how several child service workers went in to get me, and each of them turned out dead along the road to my house, all in strange ways. I didn't really understand what he meant by that. After, I guess, the third case worker died, the community was uneasy, and let it alone. I didn't know that others could see what was going on. I always thought that no one cared. " _ Toki sniffed

"_But they did care, they cared a lot, in fact. Once I got to Oslo, they gave me a bag of clothes to wear, and enough money to buy a plane ticket to America. One of the shop owners made me a fake passport and ID. I was never so happy. People really care about other people, even if they don't always show it."_

"_Hmmm."_

"_So, that is how I got here. I kind of wandered about aimlessly for awhile. Slept under bridges, in a dumpster, I tried youth shelters but they always tried keeping me there and tracking down my parents. I knew I had to find work. Sometimes, I would do chores around the yard for moneys, or stores would be nice and give me food. Americans are very different place to place. Some are very nice, others are mean. The nicest ones were in a place called Io-was. I got fed until I would burst, and truck drivers would let me ride thousands of kilometers with them, buying me soda and things on the way.'_

"_Pffttts. Probably perverts that like little boys."_

"_They were not like that. I told them what happened in my country, and they would take me as far as they could, sometimes farther, and made sure I got somewhere to spend the night." _

"_Finally, I got here. I saw the flyer, and walked around, lost. I got beaten up a few times along the way but it wasn't that bad. I finally got to the audition, even though I was too late. Then, I saw you. I thought you looked like ..well, an Angel". _

"_Angel, Incubus maybe, or some type of sexual demon."_ Skwisgaar murmered into the warm, tan skin of the Norwegians neck.

"Hmm."

"_How did you get here?"_

"_Pfft. Boring story- I basically got sick of my whore mother, and left home when I was seventeen. I crashed at a friend's house for awhile when I dropped out of school. My friend was starting a band-you know how that goes, any fuck face with an instrument wants to be in a band. I was with a shit ton of different bands, and I just saved up my money. I would stay with some friendly MILFS or GMILFS for awhile, usually you-know-whatting them for my keep, and pocket my money. Or, if the band was half-way decent, I would crash on the couch or some shit. It just wasn't enough for me. I didn't want to just end up in some stupid dildos band that wasn't going anywhere. I wanted more-I wanted to be the fastest , most brutal guitarist alive. I wanted to be famous, and not some regular dildo jackoff with wife and kids. Fuck that. "_

"_I don't think I could see you living like a regular guy" _Toki grinned

"_Exactly._ _So, I saved up my money for years. I didn't buy much-only strings for my guitar, didn't' eat much. I finally went through paperwork for my passport, and I got a temporary VISA so I could try to look for work in America."_

"_Couldn't, you know, just use the computer for that?"_

"_Don't be a stupid dildo. That was back in 1997. Internet wasn't like it is right now. There wasn't translating software, and it was harder to navigate things. Computers were for school kids and nerds."_Skwisgaar explained patiently. He sometimes forgot the age difference in them. He was a product of loose morals in the seventies, while Toki was very much an eighties baby.

"_So I came here. I joined the grunge scene for a while, even if the guitar sucked balls. I crashed with lots of people, and then eventually I heard from a friend that this death metal band was trying to start up. That caught my interest because grunge was starting to die out, and frankly, the cords weren't challenging at all. Boring shit. So, I decide to check them out."_

"_what was it like?"  
_

"_I thought my friend was pulling my leg-being a dick. This big football player with long hair, too young to even get into a bar yet, was holding court with a bunch of metal heads. There was also Pickle, but he had more hair, before he got those stupid dreadlocks. Murderface-well, his face was less fucked up, but still the same. Then there was the lead guitarist."_

"_Wait.. you weren't lead guitar?"_

"_No. That was that fucker's position, this wrinkly ass old-skool guitarist who couldn't play for shit. Anyways, I play my part of the audition, and get in right away. I took over the lead's spot, and , well. Here I am." _

"Wowwee." Toki mumbled as he looked up , impressed.

"Come on, dildos . It was stupids stories, ja?" Skwisgaar grumbled as he stood up, popping his back as he twist and turned.

"Hey, we shoulds gets a movies to watchs wid de odders."

"Sounds goods, Tokis.. "


	16. Ride Home

Authors Note: Do not own Dethklok. Sorry this chapter is short.

Nathan Explosion lumbered down the blindingly-white concrete steps of Crystal Mountain Records, exhausted. His throat was sore, and he doubted he could speak above a grating whisper at this point.

Behind him, the young Norwegian teenager was happily chirping in a excited mixture of his native tongue and half-assed English to his fellow guitarist. He couldn't understand what the hell those two weirdos were saying, but judging by the melodic baritone of the blond man, they were quiet happy and that was fine with him.

It didn't bother him when they spoke their weird Viking languages, in fact, sometimes, it sounded pretty cool, the way their vowels shaped and the clipped tones of it. He also knew that the kid was still having problems with some English words, and American culture shock, and, hell, if speaking to the Swedish Slut helped, then good for Toki.

Murderface was thoughly bothered by it, though. It didn't seem fair to him that their "American" metal band was two-fifths Scandinavian, and that if those two were alone together, then they quickly lapsed back into their mother tongues. Nathan knew it wasn't about the language at all, the bassist just hated feeling left out, and in his own immature way, felt like people were teasing him when he couldn't understand them.

Pickles was meandering along at his side, his crimson dreadlocks bouncing with each step. Against the red light of the dying summer sun, it looked like his little drummer was bathed in fire. That would be pretty metal right there. Light bounced off the eyebrow peircings, which Nathan begrudgenly admitted, looked cool. Normally eyebrow peircings could look pretty douchebag-y if they weren't done right, but Pickles pulled off double eyebrow peircings with flair. Maybe it was an ex-glam rocker thing.

The bassist lagged behind, practically dragging his instrument as he grumbled about his bleeding fingers. Which, was ironic, because William did more damage to himself willingly. And often-which bothered the raven-haired singer, because the bassist would sometimes go on a full-tilt razor party like some quasi-suicidal teenage Emo girl. Then, he was the one who got to bandage the young man up, and listen to him as he blubbered.

Will had a lot of deep seated personal issues that he would some day need to face and get over. He would never admit it, but Nathan did care about his band mates-even if they were total assholes who bitched and moaned all the time.

Before the vocalist could say something, his drummer piped up.

"Jeesssuusss… Murderface, seriously.. man, yer a fackn' bassist, yer fingers are gonna bleed once and while, its called bein' metal. If ya don' like it, I dunno.. play wit' yer dick or _sumtin_'. "

"Playsch.. withsh my hog?" the bushy-haired man asked (rather spat) "Thatsch fucksedsh."

"No, Dood.. that would be pretty metal.. think about it .. cahck-slap bass. Ya could, like, show off yer dick to millions of girls _And._ git banned from fack'n Tee-VEE. You could offend millions of people, like right in their own _homes_. Think aboot it. "

"Huh.. cock-slap bass."

"Joos gits banneds by all de mudders wants ams not letting de kiddies watch joos" Toki chirped, a shit eating grin still on his face.

"Joos gets banned from yer dildos bass-playsnk" Skwisgaar added as he drifted behind "Joos sounds dildos anywaysk.. ands cocks cants makes it sound wores"

"That would be metal, like, right there. Defiling your instrument with your pensis. That's like saying 'Fuck you" to music it self. And, like a major fuck you to the regular jackoffs watching you play." Nathan muttered.

He was going to drink tea like one of Skwisgaar's grannies when he got home. With lots of lemon and honey. Fuck what the others would think, he throat hurt like he was gargling razor blades and crushed glass.

"They could make condoms after you-tough and rugged, like fackn' Murderfaces cack."

"Hah, dats is onlys ways Moidarfaces gits laids.. ees names on de con-ems." Skwisgaar snickered.

Nathan groaned. He could feel an epic fight coming and decided to break it up before they even got started. Besides, migraines were a bitch to deal with. Or headaches. He still couldn't figure out the difference between them.

He motioned for Murderface to get the fuck into his van and Pickles followed suit, the Scandinavians not too far behind. He walked over to where the pathetic green Honda was and leaned in through Pickle's open window, ignoring the rolls of smoke that was now billowing about in his face.

"Let's get dollar menu at Dimmu Burger." He rasped "Like, git some shit for me and Murderface."He handed over a wad of bills, the last of the money from his job as a bouncer.

He decided, fuck it and quit. He hated the job anyway-the music was shitty techno-hip-hop that made him want to gouge out his ear drums with a rusty slotted spoon. The skanks weren't much better-though, once and a great while, he could get laid in the back of his truck. Sex was sex, even if it was with a neon-clad slut wearing dying glo-sticks.

"No problem. Should be fun, these mother douche bags haven't been through the drive thru yet." The redhead jammed a thumb at the Norwegian in the back seat. "I'll git 'em a kiddie meal or sum shit."

"Amsnest nots a kiddies!"

"Oh really, well the Dimmu Burger kids meal comes with a free toy and a box you can color on."

"Oh, that's reals cools."

"Ha! Gotcha! Your jus' a kid, Toki." Pickles grinned

"Aww.. liddle Tokis is a dildos babies what gets kiddies mealsk ams toys in dem." Skwisgaar sneered, though his tone lacked any malice.

Toki lightly punched the blond in the arm, but not too hard. He was still grinning. "Ats leasts ams kids better den beings a be-tee-fulls ladies likes joos, Skwisgaar"

"whatever." Nathan shrugged, not wanting to wait around much longer. He was already shuffling towards his truck.

The bassist was right behind him, bitching about the Scandinavians, though the Floridian really wasn't listening as he drove off.

Nathan was too concerned about making sure the first album went perfect. He was starting to sweat bullets now. What if they didn't sound brutal enough? Was Skwisgaar's guitar rifts fast enough? Did Toki provide enough to ground the high-flying Explorer? And what the fuck about Murderface's nearly inaudiable bass? The only thing he was 100% sure about was Pickles wailing away on the drums with blast beats.

The two songs that made the vocalist really nervous was Chernobyl Snow and Acid Rain. Those two were tricky, as they were purely instrumentals. Acid Rain used a lot of heavy bass and pounding drums, and it reminded the raven haired singer of something that could easily fit in as background music to a blockbuster zombie apocalypse movie. Chernobyl Snow was the odd ball-very Dethklok, but the notes were sparse, brittle, and eerie. It wasn't heavy, and wasn't exactly metal in the same way as the rest of the songs on the album. But, it did show case the Scandinavian's call-and-response abilities, and Skwisgaar's lightning fast guitar shreds.

Nathan growled a tiny bit as he started working himself into a lather over how the public would respond to the album. Not that he cared, well, he did, but it wasn't very metal to admit caring about something. He wanted everything to be perfect.

They still had a full week of recording left, then they had several days of various photo shoots, then they got to meet again with the Crystal Mountain Records and go over publicity.. er.. stuff. Tonight, Dethklok would be airing for the first time on a local radio station at 9 PM, as well as again later on if anyone requested it. It would be their first official debut. Dethklok had played the Hammer on a community college station, but it never went too far.

The city rolled by as he drove home on auto-pilot. Murderface was surprisingly quiet after the initial bitch-fest about the guitarists. The brunet man stared out the window the whole ride home, which was pretty unusual for him. The bassist usually had an opinion on everything under the sun.

"Schoos, this is it, ischn't iths?" Murderface mumbled into the grimy window "Wesh come thish far, but nowsh, after the recordinsh done, we just waitsh."

"Yeah."

Nathan knew the waiting was going to drive him mad, but he still had two weeks of bat-shit craziness ahead of him. Once that was done, then.. well, they just put themselves out there.

The whole thing was brick-shittingly scary. His very fucking soul, for Ozzy's sake, would be bared before millions of regular jackoffs. That was seriously deep. It was more intimate then if he decided to strip buck naked and parade around the mall on Black Friday, during the busiest part of the shopping rush. Publishing a journal (not that he really kept one) was less personal then him publishing his very soul on musical format.

It wasn't brutal to admit it, but damn it all, it was taking all the testosterone pumping in his system to calm the fuck down and keep from turning the truck around. He wanted to run back up those stupid stairs and start begging Charles to delete his shitty tracks.

There was no way that it was nearly good enough to be released yet. No fucking way. Toki still needed some work, and the bassist needed to get his head out of his ass.

Nathan was a perfectionist in his art. Nearly all artists were, and he delighted in ripping his own works apart and trying to stich them back together again, a little better with each try. Each note was dissected, each syllable scrutinized and laid bare. Everything had its place, every single note needed to fucking belong, to be needed there, if not, well, the lyrist merely ripped through the woven tapestry he created with his melody and took out the offending pieces.

"Dude.. whatsch.. whatsch if we aren't good enougsch.." his bassist continued, playing lightly with his favorite boot knife.

"We are good enough, Will, we are fucking _Dethklok_." He rasped as he gripped the wheel tighter "We are going to make the world totally fucking metal."

"How many bands never getsh beyond their first albumsh? How many are one-hit wondersch? What if.."

"Don't even fucking go there. That isn't going to happen to us. No way. '

"Wellsch.. it might. Metal isntch as popular as it wasch a few yearsh ago. We can'tsh do anythingsch else **but** metal. In the blood or schome schit. Whatsh happens to ush if we don'tsh get big? I ..ugh.. No one will fuckingsh hire me unless it involves garbage or janitorial worksh."

"I know, man. I don't even have a fucking high school degree. This is all I like, can do. I think I'd just.. I dunno, off myself or some shit. Make it messy and public, so at least people would fucking remember me." He whispered hoarsely, his voice now officially shot.

"Me too. I'd try to go all Bravehart and spill my bowls everywhere, like a big work of art. It would be awesomech."

"Yeah." He breathed , his throat raw as he focused on the road and the blood-red sky.


	17. Dimmu Burger Disco

Authors Notes: Do not own Dethklok. Sorry about the delay in chapters. I'm trying extra hard to make my chapters better for all of you.

I'd like to thank all my reviewers and all my readers! You guys keep me going writing this. I love you guys! Reviews are much appreciated!

Pickles pulled his little beat up Honda away from the parking lot, heading down the main strip of highway that had fast food lined up on each side of the road. The Norwegian was smiling like a total shit eating retard high on quality acid while visiting a sticker factory. The Swede, however, was looking out the window with glazed over eyes, lazily fingering his Explorer. He looked exhausted, his pallor more distinct around his eyes.

"Sos.. whats we does nows, Pickle?" Toki asked as he leaned forward from his spot in the back seat.

"We're gittin' sum grub from the Dimmu Burger, and maybe some frosties from Wendy's to dip our fries into.'

"What ams fros-teems?"

"Oh, its soft-serve ice cream shake-kind of stuff. They have vanilla and chocolate flavored frosties. My favorite is chocolate, its great to dip yer fries into."

"Pickle.. Americans fries and icecreams not so goods togethers, I tinks."

"French fries, dood."

"Amsns nots, French I don' tink eats dat way like Americans."

"French fry everything up man, that's why there is French toast, French fries, and.. um.. crapes. And.. fack if I know..But trust me, ya gotta try it."

"Ok.." Toki said, making a face at the redhead.

Pickles turned on the radio to his favorite station, and turned the volume up as he drove. It was uneventful unit they reached Dimmu Burger.

Pickles pulled up and rolled his window down-manually. He would love to have a newer car with power-electric whatevered everything.

"Hello, Welcome to Dimmu Burger, how may I help you?" a muffled voice buzzed through the popping static of the intercom

"Eh.. yeah.. I'll take , like five Chicken Dimmu sandwhiches, 10 junior Dimmu burgers with cheese, ah.. three spicy chicken sandwhiches, umm.. and.."

Pickles turned his head towards the Norwegian. "What kind of Dimmu Kids meal ya want?"

"Whats?"

"Chicken nuggets, hamburger or fish sandwhich?"

"De fishes"

"and a Fishy Dimmu Kids and like seven things of medium fries."

The person on the other side of the intercom rattled off the order and the total as Pickles drove around. Four large white paper bags were handed over, which Pickles set down on the empty passenger seat.

"Pickle that ams too much foods" Skwisgaar pointed out

"Naw, its fine.. trust me, we'll eat it all. If not, hey we got breakfast den, eh?"

"Burgers for breakfasts?" the teen piped up, sounding interested

"Yeah, there nat bad cold, sure ya can always nuke 'em up a bit, but then da bread gits kinda hard." Pickles flashed a grin at the rearview mirror "Course, dey didn' have dollar menu back in my SnB days, but den again, shit was so much cheaper back den. Nat like it is now".

"Yeahs, wes brokes, buts nots anymore. We has label and now makes money?"

"We just got done with the first day of recording. It's nat dat easy. We have to finish recording the whole entire record, then we have to go through any editing, and sound engineering. Dat means we have to make sure we sound the best we possibly can before it gets put into production. Before production gits finalized, we have sum photo-shoots and crap fer da cover of the album. We also git our pictures taken for a few magazines-we are gonna be featured in an upcoming issue of Revolver, and sum others."

'That sounds pretty fun!' Toki chirped

'Not rilly-sounds like it would be, right? It's not. Ya have like a handful of makeup artists runnin' around makin' ya look pretty or brutal, whatever, den you have wardrobe. You can spend hours gittin' ready for a photoshoot dat takes less time then wackin' off. The photo shoots are always a pain in da ass anyhow. Lots of bright ass lights blazin' down on ya, and ya gotta pose jus' so-and nat move or sneeze or itch yer balls."

"That amsnest fun"

'Naw. And that is if they donna have you holdin' stupid ass props dat are heavy as fuckin' hell or hold a stupid position for hours on end while some fuckwit messes wit' da lighting. Dunna even git me started on fuckin' outdoor shoots. AWWWW FACK!"

"Wot?' Skwisgaar jerked in his seat

"Aw, fackn' 'ell doods.. Ya guys are Scandinavian, right.. all black metal an' shit, and melodic metal. Swedecore, whatever. You guys always film yer shit in a blizzard or snow.."

"Yeah, but it _always_ snows in Norways.' Toki explained thoughtfully like it was the most obvious thing in the world

"Plus, what else dere to sing about but snows, and bleakness of winters?" Skwisgaar murmered, absentmindingly fingering his Explorer

'Awww.. man.. dey are probably gonna make us stand around in fackn' Vikin' shit in da fackn' snow.. fack me..Too old an' fat fer that.." Pickles grumbled as he fished in one of the Dimmu Burger bags for a stray French fry with his free hand while he steered with his left. Being a drummer had its perks in the multi-tasking department.

"Dats not too bad, Pickle. Snow looks cools." Toki smiled as he took a french fry from the Wisconsinite.

"Plus, what ams more brutals den Vikings and de snows?"

"I dunno, but I am not lookin' forward to photos. Maybe dey can, I dunno, airbrush da fack outta me. Add more hair, or give me a six-pack. Make me taller." Pickles said hopefully, munching thoughtfully on another handful of fries as he sped down the strip of highway towards Mordhaus.

"Den joo can looks like a beautifools ladies" Skwisgaar smirked

"Weeell, better den yer sorry ass, Skwis, yer da girly one."

"AMENST NOTS!" the blond yelled

"Dood, calm down, yer WAY too touchy about bein' a lady.."

"AMNEST NOTS A LADIES-JOOS A LADIES! Wears de makesups like a goil in old band, pfffttt. Goes pretties goods wits joos high-heelsk ladies shoes "

He turned into the drive-thru for Wendy's that was closest to Mordhaus, and ordered five large frosties, one of them vanilla at Skwisgaar's request. He handed the precariously balanced cardboard flat back to the Swede to hold on to, ignoring the blond pulling a face at him as he balanced his Explorer on his long legs, refusing it to touch the sticky floor of Pickles car and get soiled among the rolling cans and empty snack cake wrappers.

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

A little while later..

A mound of fast food was piled on top of the shark-tooth coffee table, along with a giant bag of gummy bears, and bowls of ranch, ketchup, barbeque sauce and a bottle of Franks Hot Sauce, which the bassist was smothering all his food in.

The lyricist was settled in with several hamburgers, and a giant pot of hot tea in front of him, complete with a crochet tea cozy made to look like a fat Viking dragon. Pickles sometimes liked to give the Florida native shit about his goofy little tea cozy, but the black-haired man was in love with the thing. He told his drummer one night, after being made fun of one too many times, that grandma made it for him before she passed away, and to go fuck himself. Pickles looked a little closer at the red dragon tea cozy, and he had to admit, it did look pretty cool. It reminded him about the idea they had waaaaaayyyy back when Mordhaus was founded, that they could all live in a Viking dragon ship.

Nathan and William had plopped a British Sci-fi show on_- Red Dwarf. _Nathan picked it up, along with the other nights ghastly entertainment, from his one-stop-shop, the public library.

Pickles was slightly surprised that Nathan would pick something like this. The Florida native was more a horror-film and zombies buff, then he was into the sci-fi genre. Epecially a spoof of the genre. But, hey, you never really know, and sometimes, a guy just had to switch things up.

"_Its cold outside, there's no kind of atmosphere, I'm all alone, more or less. Let me lie far away from here_.." Pickles sang softly, ignoring the stares from the band mates

"What?! It's a cool show."

"Umm, you've seen this show before?" Nathan rasped, in between sips of his tea

"Yeah, man. It was on all the time when I was younger. You know, on the public television station. Back in the day, the show aired on the public television station right after da Red Green Show and sum weird short show about the star's constellations or whatever bull shit. Me and my shit-fuck brother would stay up late to watch this stupid fucking show, along with episodes of Doctor Who. Pretty much the only time we weren't tryin' ta kill one another was when we watched dis shit on the telly. "

"Hmm. Is it any good?"

"Jus' watch it, its funny as shit.."

"Hah.. dat guys ams sloppies mess likes joos and Murderfaces" Skwisgaar snickered from his spot on the love seat, a half-eaten sandwich on his lap

"Yuppers. Jus' watch." Pickles said as he made his way through his third cheeseburger

"OH MYS GODs.. Hes.. puts hims ciga-rettes in hims ears!' Toki squeeled, clapping like a seal as Dave Lister, soon-to-be-last man in the universe, stuck his still-lit cigarette in his ear (yes, in his fucking ear) and was busy eating something out of a plastic cup. "Dat am gross!'

"Yanno.. tried that once.. didn't work too well-fackn' tasted like ear wax afterwards. Waste of a smoke,too."

Skwisgaar nearly gagged on his sandwhich at that.

The band was amused as they watched the antics of Dave Lister, last human in the universe. By the time Rimmer and The Cat was introduced, Nathan was chuckling and Murderface was unwilling laughing. It was agreed by everyone that Skwisgaar was most definitely The Cat.

"I wants to bes a Cat Porsons." Toki sighed wistfully, having finished his Dimmu Kids meal, and was working on the large pile on the coffee table.

"Cats ams cools' his Swedish counterpart agreed.

The Dimmu Kid's Meal came with a creepy-cute bunny toy. Said toy was perched on the teen's shoulders, its blank and soulless black button eyes staring at Pickles on the sofa, causing the redhead to shudder every so often when he glanced over at the Scandiavians on their love seat.

"Hey, Toki.. here, try dis" Pickles offered a French fry dipped in a bit of chocolate frosty.

"Okays." Toki complied as he popped it in his mouth.

His eyes got slightly wide as he chewed for a moment "Wowee-colds and hots, salties and sweets at same times. Creams and crisp-tees, toos. Hows joos knows about dis?!"

"Called bein' high all da time, kiddo."

Nathan looked over at the expression the rhythm guitarist was making, and promptly dunked a fry in his frosty.

"Man, this.. is , like really good." Nathan mumbled, dunking a few more in his frosty.

Murderface joined suit, not being one for being left out of anything, while Skwisgaar merely snorted at the Americans (and Toki) dipping their horribly fattening French fries in even more fattening soft-serve ice cream. (Though, Skwisgaar hated to admit that his vanilla frosty was actually fairly good, and did hit the spot in the killer summer heat)

Hours passed ,and the first season of Red Dwarf was finished, before Pickles ran out of beer. The drummer abruptly announced that a beer run was in order, which the singer and bassist decided to join, as they needed to stretch their legs and get out of the house anyway. A trip to the local dive bar was in order.

Skwsigaar was lazily fingering his guitar when Pickles nudged him on the shoulder on his way out the door.

"So, ya gonna stay here and baby sit, then? Or ya go to da bar?"

"Pffftttt. Don't bes a dildos, Pickle. Toki ams growns ups." Skwisgaar pulled a face at the word 'grownup'.

Pickles' pierced eyebrows shot up at the word "grown-up".

"Ya do know that he put the lunchables in the oven again.., right?"

'It only de ones times!" the Nord pouted, hopping his new creepy-cute bunny around on his lap

"Ughmm.. dat does explain why it smells of burnts plask-ticks ands bad chesses." The Swede mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and looking at Toki, then towards the kitchen.

"He left it in thar for like a fackn' half hour.. thing was so burnt it turned into _charcoal_… " Pickles reminded the Swede.

"I saids I ams sorries! But de ponies show ams on den, so I watches it." Toki chimed in, indignant

There was way to many things that could go wrong with the Nordic kid. He could be amazingly forgetful. Perhaps he overflows the bath again, or forgets to lock the door. Or, hell, the kid was so damn innocent he wouldn't know what to do if he was being robbed-probably offer them a soda and some snacks. That would sound like his little Toki.

"Ah.. ja.. he ams a babies. Probablies sets de stoves on fires agains or some-tingsk'

"Something? Shit, Blondie, the kid has the common sense of a professional glue-eater.(Sorry, Toki, but ya do) I dunno, maybe ya should stay an' watch him. Don' want the 'Haus to git burned down.. heh. Sorry, dood. I'll make sure ta git ya sum of dat fancy-ass rich-bitch vodka ya like. To make up for it. Whatever." Pickles assured the lead guitarist, patting him on the man's bony shoulders.

"Joos betters. Amsnest nots a baby-sittings liddle babies what cans no takes care of him selfs."

"Amnest nots a babies! Joos a babies, Skwisgaar!"

"whatever dood.'

"Behave for Skwisgaar, Toki. No more junk food or soda for tonight. You get those nightmares when you have too much sugar then go to sleep…. And uhhh.. brush your teeth before bed." Nathan reminded the Norwegian teen unnecessarily as he hulked out the door. "If I find out you were bad, then I won't take you with me when I go shopping this week."

The door finally shut, and they heard Pickles' Green Machine clunk off in the distance, leaving the two Scandinavians alone.

Skwisgaar looked sideways at Toki underneath his long, pale blond eyelashes. The silly Norwegian was scooting closer, pressing his legs against the older man's.

"We's alones, Skwsigaar." Toki whispered, his face illuminated by the red light streaming in through the open curtains.

Toki looked so beautiful, the Swede mused. The teen's pupils were already blown, and the soft light was dancing across the soft-yet-sharp features, making it look tempting to lick, nibble and bite the tender flesh. It was nearly too perfect.

"Ja. We's alones." Skwisgaar murmured , sliding his long, lanky arm around the bony shoulders of the Norwegian teenager, pulling him a little closer.

Toki leaned into the older man's touch, starved for affection. It had been so frustrating the last few weeks-stolen kisses, and sneaking glancing touches along the other. Making out in the hallway the other night had helped, but no matter what, it just wasn't enough. He felt like he was addicted. He really had no idea about addiction-but he craved the lead guitarist's touch more then he craved his favorite candies.

Toki leaned in, and sloppily jammed his mouth against the blond-man's, mewing slightly.

Skwisgaar chuckled slightly. Toki's innocence and enthusiasm was adorable. Toki tried opening his mouth and kissing with tongue, but failed miserably.

He felt the teen's hot little hands pawing at his chest through his thin tank top, and smiled at the clumsy attempts at untucking it to get at his skin.

Skwisgaar placed a cool, slender hand on the Norwegian teen's bony sternum. He slid upwards to worship that long neck of his. The teen was slowly starting to fill out a bit more since he arrived at Mordhaus. He was still slender, and bony, but he didn't look so starved. It was hot as fucking hell-all lean long lines, sharp bony plains, and yet a tiny amount of boyish charm remained.

He carefully tucked a lock of chestnut colored hair behind the teen's ear, and planted a kiss on his sharp cheekbone. He ghosted feathery-light kisses along the teen's strong jawline, teasing around his wide mouth. The little Norwegian was making desperate mewling noises, and tried to shift his face to capture the older man's plump lips with his own.

Skwisgaar held Toki's face fast with his cool fingertips, keeping him still as he trailed to the other side of his face. He moved higher, planting kisses on his brow, along the wide bridge of his strong nose, then delicately over each eyelid. Toki was positively writhing minutely under the older man's grasp, his hot hands pawing desperately at the Swede's back.

Gentle, strong hands tilted the teen's face up, and Skwisgaar nipped and bit at the sensitive skin as Toki whimpered.

"_You are so hot, Little Toki"_ Skwisgaar growled against the other's throat as he slid his hands under the threadbare tee shirt, moving upwards to tease the sensitive nipples. He moved to press his mouth against Toki's, opening to allow the Nord's tongue in as he pinched a nipple, causing the teen to inhale sharply with a hiss. He repeated it to the other one, kissing deeper, taking control. He was the lead guitarist, after all.

Skwisgaar leaned back, dragging Toki with him until they were a hot fumbling mess of long legs arm and hair, grinding their hips against each other. Toki was thrusting against his lead guitarist for all he was worth, the length of his erection straining against the faded, worn-out jeans he was wearing. Skwisgaar arched up to meet his rhythm thrust for thrust, one hand holding him close to his chest.

"_Toki.. lets move this to the bedroom" _Skwisgaar murmured into the teen's ear

"_Ja" _Toki panted, his hands carding through golden locks.

Toki rolled unceremoniously off of the blond, and onto the floor, before picking himself up. Skwisgaar smirked from his position on the loveseat. The stupid teen was still a goofy mess-it was hopelessly adorable, like an overgrown puppy. Errr… if overgrown puppies were sexy.

Toki looked over his wide, bony shoulders at Skwisgaar, his hair mussed and his face flushed a vivid pink. Skwisgaar chuckled as he got up gracefully, and tugged the Norwegian along to his lair of sin.

Toki felt his heart hammering against his rib cage like it was going to burst. He was giddy, and tingling with nervous excitement, and yet in the same way he was scared shitless. He let himself be led along and was breaking into a nervous sweat.

He was barely through the doorway before the teen practically threw himself at Skwisgaar, wrapping his lanky arms around the Swede's neck and standing on his tip-toes to pelt his face with messy kisses. He took his cue to back the boy onto his bed, where he sprawled out. The contrast between the teen's dark, threadbare clothes and the cool white of the sheets was a sight to behold. It would be even better without clothes on.

He peeled off his thin tank top and toed out of his boots. The sweltering heat was killing him lately-but he refused to wear sandals, no matter how hot it got outside. He had to peel his socks off-unsexy as hell, but he flashed the teen a sultry smile all the while. He kept his skinny white jeans on as he climbed onto the bed, straddling the smaller man and veiling his face with a cascade of golden locks.

The Swede couldn't help but smile as Toki reached up and eliminated the distance between them with an impatient groan.

Gods, he wanted him. He had never wanted anything more in his life-even if that sounded stupid as hell. They had a common mother language (close enough, even if they were different dialects), common cultures, and what the hell-

Skwisgaar crushed his mouth against Toki, punishing him for being so damn perfect, so damn nice, and so horribly innocent. He didn't give two shits anymore. He wanted this, but he had to make sure his little rythim guitarist wanted it just as badly.

"_Toki_.. " he breathed, his voice ragged with longing "_I wants you.."_

"_Ja.. I wants you too." _

"_Are you sure?"_ Skwisgaar whispered as he rested his forehead against the teens in a comforting gesture

"_Ja. I am"_ Toki responded, his youthful face determined as he petted the other's long hair

"_We can go slow-and stop any time, okay? I don't want to hurt you."_

"_I know.. thank you. I .. guess, I am kind of nervous." _Toki admitted, a guilty smile spreading over his wide mouth

"_It's alright to be nervous. Everyone is their first time."_ Skwisgaar nuzzled into the warmth of Toki's neck as his cool hands slid the ratty tee shirt up and off, tossing it somewhere on the floor.

"… _Skwisgaar.." _Toki cried out when the Swede bent his golden head to lavish his hot tongue on the tiny pink flesh of the Norwegian's perfect nipple. Cool hands pushed him back into the firm mattress as he turned the attention to its twin, keeping the teen from arching up too far.

"Hmm?" the lead guitarist hummed, trailing his way down the teen's lanky torso

"_You have too much clothes on, Little Toki" _He plucked at the fabric of the jeans for emphasis

The rhtyim complied hasily, shucking off the jeans as fast as he could while still underneath his superior. It was amusing watching him squirm and wiggle about underneath him like that.

"_Take off those Iron Man underpants, too..I feel like a pedophile."_

"_Hey.. Pickle bought me these at the store.."_Toki made a face at the blond, but peeled them off anyways, revealing his formidable Norwegian wood, thick and heavy between his surprisingly skinny thighs. It was already arching upwards, greedy for action.

"_Skwisgaar.. what is a pedophile?"_ Toki asked innocently as he tossed his colorful undergarments in a pile in the corner

"_That is a pervert that likes little children. I am a pervert, but I have mature tastes. You are still a bit too young for me, but oh well… I guess you'll have to do" _the blond smirked, lounging arrogantly on his side

"_Oh…"_

Upon seeing Toki's crestfallen look, Skwisgaar pulled him back down onto the bed, making the teen squeal a little bit with happiness.

The older man stood up and slowly peeled off his jeans, revealing throbbing ivory length it all its glory, nestled in a fine golden down. He never wore underwear, choosing to free ball whenever possible.

He was surprised when Toki leapt up from the bed and ran a shakly hand down Skwisgaar's naked form, before trailing shyly downwards. He lightly touched the other man, surprised at how warm and velvety it felt in his hands. He only rarely touched himself, but touching another was entirely different. He wrapped his hand around it, surprised when his fingers didn't touch. Toki slid his hand down tentaviely, and was rewarded with his lead bucking his hips into his hand.

"_Oh, Odin.. Toki.. gods.. that feels good."_

Toki tried moving his hands different ways, seeing what felt good to the other man. He felt like he should reciprocate all the pleasure the other man had given him. He tried pumping his hand fast, then slow. The lead guitarist was purring into his chestnut hair and moving his hands along the sensitive scar tissue on the Norwegian's back.

Toki moved a hand lower, cupping the heavy, taut balls that were finely dusted with golden hair. He never thought something as gross as genitals could look so… appetizing.

He realized his mouth was watering at the sight of the turgid length arching up along the older man's slender torso. The slit was already weeping, a tiny pearl of milky fluid forming at the delicately pink tip. The man's gorgeous member was beautiful-pale, faintly pink, long and slender just like it's owner. How could he have ever thought something like this could ever be ugly?

He knelt, and tried to figure out the best way ..erm. He looked up, and was surprised to see Skwisgaar regarding him with dark eyes and gorgeously swollen lips.

"_You don't have to force yourself to. Only do what feels right. The rest will come with practice.."_ he purred, his slender fingers clutching slightly at the silky caramel locks as Toki bent his head to lick at the pink tip.

Hmm. It wasn't like what he was expecting.

Skwisgaar's personal musk was stronger down here, stimulating and comforting at the same time. A swipe of the tongue proved that Toki was right-Skwisgaar would taste ever so slightly salty. It was more..well, hmm. How would you explain that? Musk was more along the correct word, Toki supposed, but salty wasn't quiet right. It was faint-something forbidden and yet so natural.

He tried twirling his tongue around the shaft, imagining it was a large strawberry ice cream cone. Surely the idea had to be the same?

Above him, Skwisgaar had thrown his head back and was murmuring Swedish nonsense.

He attempted taking a good part of his Swedish counterpart's length in his mouth, but was sadly disappointed when it triggered his gag reflex, making him gag on the man's swollen cock.

"_Its ok, Toki.. don't force yourself."_

"_I wants to"_

"_Its…ah.. a lot..to handle"_ he panted as the teen bobbed his head back down on his cock, determined to take as much as the Swede could give, or choke himself to death trying.

Toki wrapped his arms around Skwisgaar's waist, grabbing at those pale ass cheeks, and impaled himself on the Swede's cock, before having to pull off with a sobbing gag.

"Sorry" Toki sputtered, bent over, tears shining at the corners of his eyes

"_Oh.. Toki. I said you didn't have to do that. Silly dildo_." He smiled as he helped the teen to his feet and pushed him back on the bed.

"_So.. are we going to fuck now?" _

Skwisgaar laughed a little bit _"I think I need to take care of you first before we think about that."_

He covered up the teen's body with his own and settled himself between those long, slender tan legs that made the Swede want to nip, bite and bruise with his kisses. He started with the teens left foot, licking at each little toe before planting kisses and licking his way up the well-defined calves, then bony knee caps, to the sensitive , rarely touched underside of the knee, then back up to the thigh.

Toki was mewling pathetically his hips canting as Skwisgaar nipped at the flesh between his thighs, skirting around the jutting erection in favor of trailing his way back down to the tips of the toes on the other leg. Pre-cum was now dripping down the straining member and spilling into his chestnut down.

"_Skwisgaar.. PLEASE!"_

"_Oh..my little Toki." _ He breathed hotly onto the throbbing member, making it jerk several times.

He had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second, willing himself to calm the hell down as the need to spill his seed thrummed through his veins like pissed off nano- machines.

He took the Nord fully in his hot mouth, until the tip of his long nose was nestled in the soft hair at the base. He withdrew tantalizingly slowly, only to impale himself again, keeping firm hold on those narrow hips.

Toki's head thrashed about against the white silk pillow covers, his chestnut hair spread like a halo. Skwisgaar looked up, drinking in the sight of his rhythm guitarist and counterpart coming undone at the seams. The way his Nord bit his lip, while scrunching up his face was so dirty-innocent, it was breaking his heart a little. It was just too perfect.

He buried his face again before pulling away for a second to reach over the side of the bed for a stray bottle of lube. (Truth be told, the Swede had several bottles littered throughout his bedroom, because who has time to track down a single bottle of lube while your fucking?)

He coated a finger and swirled it against the teen's enterance as he took him down to the base again,one hand messaging the taut little teenage balls, the other gently probing against the tight enterance.

His one digit finally slid in just to the first knuckle as Toki arched up his back, and came with a primal scream, coating his lead's mouth with thick streams of creamy-sweet cum. He panted heavily as he slumped bonelessly in the mattress, his hair sticking to his forehead in weird ways.

"_That….was…. good.." _Toki panted as he propped himself up against the pillows.

"_Do you want to do more?"_ Skwisgaar whispered seductively.

"_Maybe_…" Toki said sheepishly as he grinned

"_Lets try this."_ As he pressed his index back in to just beyond his finger nail, before pulling out a little bit.

Toki's face was relaxed, with encouraged him to go a bit further, to the second knuckle. That got a bit of response. His rythim was writihg a bit against the bed.

First finger all the way in.

"_How are you feeling?"_ Skwisgaar asked carefully as he finger-fucked his friend.

"_Weird.. but good"_

"_I am going to try to add a second finger..is that alright?"_

"_Ja.. sure. Just do it." _Toki panted

Applying more lube, and taking great care not to hurt him, he added a second finger bit by bit as Toki panted.

"_I feel… so.. full" _

"_That is good.. let me know if it is too much or if you want me to stop. I don't want to hurt you."_

"_Okay"_

The Norwegian was bearing down on his two digits like a vice. He patently tried working them in, finger fucking him as he rubbed his chest and whatever else he could reach with his free hand.

He tried adding a third finger.

Tried, but the hiss from clenched teeth put a stop to that, and Skwisgaar had no choice but to take the third finger out and continue to work him open with just two fingers. His balls were starting to hurt, but he ignored it. Anal was one form of sex that just couldn't be rushed unless done by someone vastly experienced and well-lubed. The lining could be too easily torn by insufficient prep, and the delicate ring of muscle could get damaged as well. It wouldn't do to traumatize the young man.

They had been prepping for awhile, with Skwisgaar reapplying lube every so often, but the Nord wasn't getting any looser. In fact, just he opposite. He was slowly getting tighter, which caused him to slow his gentle ministrations somewhat. He was sweating with the effort of restraining himself.

A cruel part of him wanted to hurry through the prep and force himself on Toki, who probably wouldn't protest any, much less tell anyone later of what happened. But he couldn't bring himself to do that to Toki.

If it had been any other piece of ass, he could have just done a perfunctory scissoring with some lube , smeared himself with some extra, lined it up, and fucked whoever it was through his mattress without giving much thought if they were adequately prepped, or if he tore them up. Hell, half the time he liked watching the sluts wince when he fed them his ivory cock. Their pallets were usually so jaded by then, that anything painful was wildly arousing. The fact that he didn't give to shits about them usually made them more desperate to please him.

But not Toki. He didn't want to hurt him in any way. Primitive, touchy-feely emotions were crawling up from whatever depths he banished them when he was around the Norwegian. He wanted to protect the kid, love him (well, in his own way), but he also wanted to own him, to have that bright, wide smile all to himself like he could collect it like a prize. He wanted to show Toki the world, to teach him and to watch him grow as a musician. It was complicated to say the least.

"_Toki.. it's ok.. shh.. you are doing great." _

"_Skwisgaar.." _

"_Hmm?"_

"_I… I am getting sore.." _Toki said softly, not meeting his eyes. He looked ashamed, a little like he was going to start crying "_I'm sorry."_

He was trying desperately to relax as Skwisgaar prepped him with his long, slender fingers, but it was a weird feeling. He had felt it before not that long ago, but he felt more 'open' then , then he did now. Plus that and Skwisgaar was resting against Toki's stomach more was feeling uncomfortable. He didn't realize that eating so much food would affect him in something like this.

More then anything, he felt like he let Skwisgaar down again. He got to get off, and it didn't matter how much he wanted to try to have sex with his Guitar God, offer himself like a virgin sacrifice. He just couldn't. It was too tight, too uncomfortable. What was wrong with him?

God. He was horrible. What if Skwisgaar was mad at him? Tears pricked his eyes as he looked into the stormy sea of the blond man's eyes. The pupils were blown and he looked so passionate it hurt.

"_It's alright. Anal is difficult at first, Toki. You did very good." _he reassured the other and he kissed him.

He got up, and with a quick check out of the bedroom door, strode over to the bathroom to clean his hands up in the sink. Anal was messy business at the very best.

When he came back, Toki was shyly tugging his shirt on, and trying to cover himself with his ratty jeans.

"_Toki.. you ok?"_

"_I did bad.. I let you down.I .. couldn't. I don't know why..I wanted to."_

"_That is fine. I didn't think you could have gone all the way anyway. Anal and binge-eating usually don't go too well together." _

'_You mad?"_

"_Pffttt.. no. But, maybe you give me a hand, ja?" _Skwisgaar arched a brow at the shorter man.

"Okay." Toki plopped back down on the bed, now clad only in a old SnB shirt and Iron Man briefs.

"Here" Skwisgaar guided his hand over to his member, moving his hands around the length like he was adjusting the fingering on his guitar work .

"_You can do this. Just move it how it feels good to you, and I will help guide you.."_ Skwisgaar said huskily

Toki focused on moving his hand up and down the Swede's velvet length , alternating occasionaly on how hard he gripped it

"_Ow! Don't grab it like it owes you money!"_ Skwisgaar snapped when Toki caught the straining pillar of flesh in a death grip

"Sorry"

"_Like this." _ With that, his hand was repositioned into a firm, yet non-life-threatening grip, and moved easily along the length.

Toki stuck his tongue out as he worked. The way the blond was giving him instructions was also hot in it's own way. "_Rub the head-spread the pre-come, yeah.. like that"_

"_Stroke harder"_

"_that's it."_

Toki watched, mesmerized as the blond spread his legs further on the bed, his head thrown back, hair fanned out beautifully, the light filling the room with a blood-red glow that kissed the pale skin of his beloved Guitar God.

"_I'm… close"_ he panted, his chest heaving

"_Com… ming.."_ he whispered "_Oh, Odin.. Toki.. gods.." _as he spurted thick, heavy drops of his seed onto his torso and all over Toki's hands.

"_Keep stroking a little bit.. ah.. that is it.. let..ja.. let me come down slowly..ja.." _he purred as the Nord continued to stroke him under his instructions.

"_Now, grab that towel over there..Thanks"_ He cleaned himself up and threw it back into the corner and reached over to kiss Toki again.

"_You did good."_

Both Scandiavians were boneless as they finished dressing, and combing their hair in companionable silence. Side by the side in the bathroom, brushes and combs in hand, Skwisgaar pulled Toki close again to plant a kiss on his head.

"_You maybe dildos on guitar, but you are my stupid dildo.."_

Toki grinned at him in the mirror as he smoothed down the part sticking up at the back of his head.

The settled back down on the loveseat, sodas in hand , and arms around each other as they watched a few of Toki's DVDs while they waited for the others to show up. Toki ended up falling asleep to the steady pounding of Skwisgaar's heartbeat as he nestled against his chest.


End file.
